


The End Of The(ir) World

by ladyoneill



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Claiming, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Mating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with the Alpha Pack and the Hale Pack but it ended with the world overrun by the supernatural and the Hale Pack awaiting their fate.  Death?  Forced turnings?  Being separated and taken from their homes?  Rape?  What would be their punishment for defying the Alphas?  If they survive, what will that survival bring them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi-chaptered fic in TW and my first WIP. I cannot guarantee how fast this will be written, but after this brief prelude, the first chapter is nearly done. I decided to post a WIP because I haven't done so in several years, writing either short ficlets or big bangs that post in one go, and I didn't want to let this languish. I'm hoping that posting it will spur me to continue it quickly. This idea hit me out of nowhere yesterday morning and by the end of the evening I had over 2300 words written. That hasn't happened in a long time.
> 
> This fic will be from multiple perspectives (changing per chapter), but mostly from Stiles'. The main pairings will be Derek/Stiles and Peter/Lydia and please take the warnings to heart. Stiles and Lydia are underage. Lydia is scared to death of Peter (who, as I often write him, is a much more sympathetic creature than I figure he will be in Season 3; he just wants to be Pack). There are allusions to rape, there may be graphic rape depicted. As so little is written or even plotted in my head, I will add to the warnings as this evolves, so please recheck them each time a chapter is posted.

A little over six months, that's all it took, for the world to shift one hundred and eighty degrees.

They were exhausted. They were scared. They were waiting, because that's all they could do. Waiting for Peter to return with the final word on the fate of the Hale Pack.

It had started with them and the Alpha Pack, but that was just the tip of the huge, planet-sized iceberg. In the seven months since the mark on the door, more and more of the dark had slipped out from the shadows. On December first the first truly overt attacks occurred and the supernatural came out of the closet.

By December thirty-first, they'd conquered the world.

It started with the Alpha Pack wanting to rip apart the fledgling Hale Pack, kill the Alpha and take bits of the survivors for themselves. They took Jackson early on. After two weeks in their company he'd killed the Alpha of a small pack in Arizona, taking the woman's place and becoming the newest ally of the Alpha Pack. Completely under their thumb, he left a hole in the Hale Pack. The Alphas tried to seduce Stiles, wanting his magic, and he'd nearly succumbed, so desperate for the attention from the twins, before Peter of all wolves stepped in and forced his nephew to see just what he was about to lose. Isaac's memories were still a mess from the manipulations of Kali. What was true and what was false kept him confused and weak. And, Deucalion's multiple attempts on Lydia's life, to kill something he could not and would not comprehend, kept the Pack on constant edge.

But it didn't end with the Alpha Pack, although, in the end, here on the last day of the year, that was all that mattered to the rag-tag, beaten members of the Hale Pack, their friends, their families.

While the world burned around them, the human population of most cities decimated, millions dead, millions more enslaved to vampires and demons and witches and more werewolves than even the hunters realized existed, Beacon Hills remained mostly untouched.

Waiting, like the pack.

The Alphas failed at killing Derek, failed at seducing Stiles or killing or, after Jackson, stealing any of the other pack members, but they won the territory anyway.


	2. The Pronouncement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hale Pack waits to find out their fate. It's not pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. I expected to have this first chapter up no later than last night but then basketball ate my brain. Since my alma mater sucked and lost a hour ago, that's not as much an issue anymore. Anyway, the story really starts here. Chapter 1 from Stiles' perspective. Also, I realize Lydia may seem out of character, but all will be explained as I delve into her complicated relationship with Peter. This chapter rated no more than PG13, though there are allusions to rape.

Sitting on the floor of the shell of the Hale house, the former living room lit only by a few lanterns, shivering as the cold seeped through the walls, Stiles carefully watched Derek who sat on one of the few chairs, back ram-rod straight, eyes burning red. The Alpha hadn't broken, but, still, he was destroyed.

Around them huddled the pack, all but Peter their advocate and Allison, taken prisoner with her father over a week before. No one had heard from the Argents, but they were alive. Their deaths, as the deaths of all hunters, would be very public and very messy. Usually that happened quickly. Stiles couldn't help but wonder at the delay.

A glance to his left showed him Scott and Isaac curled together on one end of the ratty couch, nothing sexual in their embrace, just desperation and fear. Scott wasn't handling the loss of Allison well. Their relationship had tentatively begun again with the new school year, as she made amends for her craziness, and he fell more and more in love.

Her death would probably kill him.

Stiles was too tired to even fight that thought.

On his right, Lydia sat, her hands restless in her lap. She was thinner, her cheekbones more prominent, her eyes shadowed by lack of sleep, lack of appetite, fear. Her hair was tangled, her clothes weren't designer, and the bruise from a punch from a witch was an ugly purple smudge across her chin.

Stiles had his own bruises and scrapes. Every inch of his body hurt to some degree. But he didn't bear one of the hurts that Lydia did, not the one deep inside her heart. On a business trip to Seattle, her father had been caught in a massacre, torn apart by zombies raised from the dead by one of the evilest covens around. At least Stiles' dad was alive, or had been the last Stiles had seen him, a few days before.

The Alphas had made sure that images of Mr. Martin's death had been taken and sent to Lydia. That had nearly broken her, had sent her into Stiles' arms for comfort, and since then they'd spent almost every night together, trying to sleep, usually failing. Again, like Scott and Isaac, nothing sexual. He still loved her, he always would, but he didn't really want her. Over nearly a year of getting to know her, his desires had turned.

His eyes flickered to Derek again. The Alpha was staring at the door.

His Betas were turning their attention there as well.

Lydia stiffened and Stiles stopped breathing as gut-wrenching fear punched through him.

The door opened and Peter stepped inside.

Like the rest of them, he looked exhausted and beaten down. Shoulders slumped, chin down, he closed the door behind him and briefly leaned against it, before taking a breath and pushing off to walk towards the expectant group of wolves and humans. Once his footfalls fell silent, there was not a sound until he spoke and everyone breathed.

"We get to live."

Tears of relief slid down Erica's face before she burrowed them into Boyd's shoulder where she sat on his lap at the other end of the couch. Of all of them, she had suffered the most physical punishment at the hands of the Alphas. Ethan and Deucalion had taken great pleasure in showing her just what a Beta female was for, nearly destroying the still forming mate bond between she and Boyd.

Even two and a half months after their rescue, Stiles knew it still hadn't settled for them, knew from Erica's teary confessions over too much ice cream and bad syfy channel movies, that she and Boyd hadn't slept together since before their capture.

That she simply couldn't stand the thought.

Stiles was jerked out of his thoughts by Lydia's hand wrapping with his, tightening almost painfully, as she fought to control her breathing.

Being allowed to live was great, but it wasn't relief, because Peter's eyes were shuttered and his posture spoke of defeat.

"There are conditions," he continued, his voice bitter. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his leather coat and let his eyes drift over the pack. Stiles noticed they lingered on him and Lydia before going to Derek, and he stiffened.

This was not going to be good.

"If we agree to their conditions and follow them to the letter, we can remain on..." He frowned and amended, "we can remain in Beacon Hills."

Not the Hale Territory anymore, though no one wanted the wreck of a house or the surrounding dense and overgrown forest.

"The Alpha Pack will let us live as an independent pack under their oversight. A representative will be left in charge until or if we are deemed trustworthy enough to control Beacon Hills and the better part of Beacon County, our former territory. It's my opinion that will never happen. We're allowed to interact with the town any way we want. They mentioned a deal has already been struck with the town council to allow the citizens to return to their normal lives with a few exceptions and a bunch of new rules."

Stiles desperately wanted to ask about his dad's future--once in the know and as the Sheriff, he'd caused the Alphas a lot of trouble--but he was equally desperate to know what the conditions were so he bit back his questions.

Obviously conflicted over what to say next, Peter stopped talking until Derek began to growl. Huffing, he looked directly at Stiles and Lydia. Stiles felt her flinch and knew she was looking anywhere but back at Peter.

"We know the Alpha Pack despises pack humans, especially those not born to wolves. In older, more tradition heavy packs, it's customary to turn humans born into a pack when they come of age or those who join a pack through mating or alliances at the time they join. In strong and younger packs, humans have been accepted and allowed to refuse the bite, though most don't. In the past, those packs were usually too large, too stable to come up against the Alpha Pack and their old-fashioned rules. The original Hale Pack was both. Our Pack is neither."

"What do they want, Peter."

Turning back to Derek, Peter sighed in resignation. "At first they ordered me to have you bite Stiles and kill Lydia." He spoke through the protest from Stiles and the shocked gasp from Lydia. "I talked them down from that and finally they insisted that, if allowed to stay human and alive, our pack humans be mated. If they refuse to mate within our Pack, the Alphas will choose for them from amongst their allied packs, and they'll be taken from Beacon Hills."

Derek's growl was deeper, angrier, although not addressed at his uncle any longer, and protests arose from the rest of the pack.

Scott's voice rose above the others, silencing them with his fear-filled question, "What about Allison?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't know."

"But, we're...we're already..." Scott's head fell onto Isaac's shoulder and Stiles saw tears in his best friend's eyes.

"They won't let you be with her. Whether or not she'll live is still in question, Scott. If she does, most likely she'll be given to one of the Alphas as punishment."

Scott wailed and Stiles felt his heart clench in sympathy. They never talked about it, but Scott had pretty much accidentally mate bonded with Allison before she'd gone crazy. It was one of the reasons her mother had been so desperate to kill Scott. Bonded, they could never be with anyone else.

Well, not willingly.

Stiles glanced over at Erica, saw her shuddering, and dropped his eyes as his mind began to whirl with too many thoughts and too little Adderal. He wasn't sure when he'd last taken any.

"Pray she dies," was Derek's sharp comment, and Scott shifted and growled at the Alpha who just glowered back.

"Did you fight at all for her?" Scott demanded.

Peter shot him an angry look. "Yes. She's pack and you know how important that is to me. I realized pretty quickly that they weren't going to cave on her. I was lucky to get them to agree to any of my counters."

Scott's anger fled and Isaac began to murmur to him.

Stiles' heart began to beat more rapidly because Peter had turned his attention back to the two humans. Slowly he rose to his feet, pulling Lydia with him. He didn't want to be sitting for this. "Do we get a choice?"

Peter shook his head.

Stomach plummeting, Stiles swallowed hard, trying to work up saliva in his suddenly dry mouth. "They gave me to you, right." He could...deal with that. He'd have to deal with that. His skittering mind went back to that night in the garage when Peter had offered him more than just a turning bite, something Stiles had learned after Peter's resurrection from one of the few remaining tomes in the Hale library.

Something like sorrow crossed the older man's face and he shook his head. "No, they gave you to Derek, Stiles. They gave Lydia to me."

Beside him, Lydia froze, stopped breathing, and Stiles knew how terrified she was of Peter, who had tormented and haunted and manipulated her from his grave, after first savaging her and leaving her with scars that would never fade. The hand within his turned to ice, and he pulled her close.

"Go back to them. Tell them I'll willingly be yours. Get them to switch us, Peter. Make them give Lydia to Derek or Isaac." God, why did Jackson have to be so damn weak and give into the Alphas? He and Lydia had been half way mated already.

"You think I didn't argue that, Stiles?"

"I think you didn't argue hard enough," he yelled back. He would do it. He'd willingly sacrifice himself to Peter to save Lydia's sanity, even though being given to Derek...being mated to Derek...something only in his wildest, most private and hopeless fantasies...

A small sound from Derek briefly drew his attention and he saw...hurt? Before Derek rose, face going cold and hard as he demanded, "When?"

"Moonrise tonight."

"That's only a couple hours away," Isaac pointed out softly.

"What else, Peter?"

"I argued them down from public matings to only having the claiming bite be in front of them and the Pack. They'll know if we don't finalize the bonds, especially where Stiles is concerned."

Starting to ask why, Stiles closed his mouth abruptly. Right. Virgin. Apparently he smelled like one.

A shiver went through him at the thought of sex with Derek, but then, beside him, Lydia finally reacted and collapsed into him, nearly sending both of them to the floor.

"I can't," she cried hysterically. "I can't, please don't make me do this." Clutching at Stiles, eyes wild, she shook her head in denial.

Wrapping his arms around her, Stiles tried to soothe her, but she was shaking too hard, too lost in fear and memories. "We can't lose you, Lydia. They'll take you away. They'll...hurt you." All that did was make her cry harder. He was crap at this. His eyes locked on Peter, noting the concern there, but also noting that he made no move towards his soon-to-be mate.

Instead, Erica shook off her own fear and rose to tug Lydia gently away from him, murmuring to her and trying to calm her as she led her towards one of the back rooms.

"Why not Isaac?" Scott asked into the sudden silence. "I mean, as werewolves we're considered adults at sixteen, right?"

"I asked that as well. Neither you nor Boyd are available, but Isaac obviously is."

"I'll do it. I mean, if she wants."

Peter shook his head sadly. "You're not punishment."

Stiles made a strangled noise that was echoed by a growl from Derek. "What?"

"They really don't like you, Stiles, and they...I think they fear Lydia. They don't understand her. They're doing this to hurt you both and punish the last two Hales as well for our temerity to stand up to them and survive."

Eyes going to Derek again, Stiles could only shake his head in confusion because that wasn't punishment for him. Okay, yeah, he was not even seventeen yet and Derek mostly ignored him or growled at him or made him research at four in the morning, but sex with him was not a punishment. It couldn't be. Even for life sex and all the other implications of mating with an alpha wolf, which he was having a hard time seeing past the sex to ponder at the moment.

Derek's growl deepened, almost to a howl, and Peter gave him a dark look. "Run, Derek. Get that aggression out of your system or you'll hurt the boy."

"Not a boy."

Giving his uncle a nasty look and ignoring Stiles all together, Derek strode across the floor and out the door. His howl shook the glass in the few unbroken windows and sent a shudder through Stiles.

Derek was pissed.

Yeah, he hadn't thought yet about what the Alpha wanted in a mate. It sure as hell wouldn't be Stiles.

"I need to talk to my dad," he said dully.

Peter nodded but gestured towards the remains of the kitchen. "We need to talk first." Expecting to be followed, he headed in that direction, and Stiles did start to follow him, only to be stopped by Scott who hugged him hard.

"It'll be okay, Stiles, right?"

In trying to be concerned for Stiles, he was obviously as concerned for himself as well, but since Stiles had finally come to understand just how much Allison meant to his best friend, he just patted his back and nodded, before continuing after Peter.

He found the former Alpha leaning against the surviving counter, arms crossed over his chest, frown on his face and eyes far away. Fingers fidgeting, Stiles stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and angled around a few loose floorboards to stand a few feet in front of Peter.

"This sucks."

Peter snorted, but Stiles' comment seemed to bring him back from wherever his thoughts had gone. "Succinctly put. It could have been much worse."

"Yeah." Stiles was pragmatic enough to figure death had been the probable outcome. He was kind of surprised the Alpha Pack had gone for...whatever the Hell this was. "Punishment?"

"Certainly for Lydia."

Ignoring the bitter comment from Peter, Stiles said, "But...not for me. I mean, even if it had been you..." He could feel himself blushing but barreled on, "Even you, it would have been okay. I can deal. Derek? I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm pretty damn obvious..."

"That you want Derek is not a surprise to any of us, no. Well, possibly Derek because he prefers to keep his head buried in the sand. But, let me ask you this, Stiles. What happens when your mate won't allow himself to want you back?"

The blush faded to pallor and Stiles took a stuttering step back, bumping into the remains of the large kitchen table. "Wha...? Why? I mean...I know I'm not God's gift or anything, but I know he likes me at least as a friend. We can deal, right?" At Peter's rather pointed silence, he swallowed hard and landed on the obvious conclusion. "He's not gay or even bi. That's it. Even though sometimes I thought maybe he...when he'd shove me against a wall and look at me and...Jesus, how is this even going to work?" Hands out of his pockets they dug into his hair, pulling in frustration and fear.

"Calm down," Peter said sharply. "I said 'allow himself to want you'. My nephew is broken, Stiles. You know this. He can't let himself want anyone. In the nine months that he's been back here, I've never smelled anything sexual on him. It's my belief, the boy hasn't fucked anyone since Kate Argent."

Stiles stared in shock because his mind just couldn't accept that someone who looked like Derek wasn't getting it on a regular basis. "But..."

"He's broken," Peter stressed again. "He wants you, but he can't allow himself to have nice things, to feel anything good. He's afraid that if he lets himself truly care, he'll lose everything again. Lydia would have been easier for him. In her own way, she's broken as well, and she'd never love him. They could just exist in a bland relationship. On the other hand, you already love him."

Stiles didn't even bother denying it, just scrubbed his hands over his face. "Shit. He'll try to keep me at arm's length."

"He's been doing it for months. There's also the issue of your age. His wolf is fine with you, but he doesn't let the wolf control him at all. It's why he can't take the Alpha form or even go full wolf. He won't let himself. So, his human side will force himself to feel even worse because you're underage."

"That's just stupid."

"And, again, that goes back to that bitch." Peter sighed softly. "And you're a virgin which just will triple his guilt and make him feel like a child molester."

Silence fell between them for a moment, broken only by Stiles' sharp, quick breaths as he tried to process all this. "The Alphas will know tomorrow if we don't..."

Peter nodded. "Derek will do it because he'll do anything to keep you alive, but don't expect either of you to enjoy it."

"Shit." He stabbed his hands back into his pockets and stared at the floor. "Do you...do you think we can make it work?"

"Do you think Lydia and I can make it work?" Peter pointedly asked.

"...Shit," Stiles breathed sadly.

End Chapter 1


	3. The Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles talks to his dad. From John's perspective (going with the common fanon name for the Sheriff) and rated PG13. Also, I like the idea of Stiles' mom being Welsh--all that Celtic magic--and, as we've been told Genim isn't his name, I went with something a little harder to pronounce.

John hated everything that had happened in the last month--to the world, to his small town--and it was his--to his son.

Especially to his son.

Sitting in the dark--random power outages kept the population on edge--shoulders slumped, dressed in civilian clothes because the town council had stripped him of his position...

'For now, John. Just be patient. Let things calm down. They'll need you, if you'll just...'

Kiss their collective asses and let them kill his son.

Reaching for the bottle of cheap whisky on the table, he poured a third or was it fourth glass with a shaking hand.

He could face his own death. He'd give his life to the monsters who now ruled the world, if it would just keep Stiles alive.

But, it was out of his hands. He was helpless and he hated that most of all. 

Sipping the whisky, making it last because it was his last bottle of anything alcoholic and he hadn't been allowed to leave his house in three days--and the prospect for the future was grim despite the mayor's bland assurances--he listened to the grandfather clock in the hall chime the half hour. At the sound, he thought about how his great-grandfather had brought the beautiful antique from the family home in a village near Prague before the turn of the last century, all the way across a new country to make a life building similar clocks in San Francisco.

The Stilinskis had never gone far from northern California. John had been the first to move permanently from San Francisco and its environs, because something about Beacon Hills had called to his new wife and there'd been a job opening.

Now John both hated and loved this town. San Francisco was ashes. If they'd stayed there, if he'd taken the first job he'd been offered on the Berkeley campus police force, he and Stiles would be as dead as his beloved Gwynyth.

But, maybe that would have been better. To die barely understanding the truth of the world. To die in a flash of witchfire.

On the night of the first attacks, Stiles had come to him, had finally told the truth. All of it. Werewolves, Scott, the Hale fire, his spark, Lydia, the Argents, Derek Hale and everything. He'd bared his back, showing his father the red slashes he bore from the most recent battle with a pack of Alpha werewolves, and John had cried.

He didn't have any more tears.

The clock chimed the quarter hour and he poured himself another drink.

The last he'd heard from Stiles, the day before he'd been confined here to his own home, surrounded by half a dozen Beta wolves, several of whom had taken great pleasure in kicking the crap out of him just for being Stiles' father, his pack was losing. Stiles had believed he was going to die in the next battle.

The only hope John had was that he truly believed any of the three most sadistic of the Alphas--not the young girl, not the one twin--would have come to gloat about Stiles' death. After the initial beatings and the sentence from Kali that he was a prisoner in his house until they decided otherwise, he'd seen none of the Alphas. He'd seen no one except the patrolling wolves outside.

For the last day the town had been quiet. No cars on the street outside, no children playing, no sirens or alarms of any kind. Either everyone was dead or the town was on lock down. Either way, he knew the Alphas had won.

Another drink, choked down as he worried about not only his kid but all those kids, the werewolves and those who loved them, their families and friends. The Alphas could be vindictive. John knew one of the reasons he was alive was that he was a bargaining chip. He could only hope that the other humans, Melissa, the parents of the other teen wolves, were alive for the same reason. They'd already lost Richard Martin.

The clock struck the hour, five bongs, and the front door opened.

John tensed, head turning towards the entryway and then everything inside him collapsed as Stiles called for him.

Stumbling to his feet, he nearly fell into the hall to pull his kid into his arms.

"Dad, dad, it's okay, I'm okay," Stiles assured him over and over, clinging to him like a child, voice choked with emotion, whole body trembling. "I...I've been so scared for you," he finally whispered.

"Me too, kiddo. Jesus, me too."

The lights came on and John blinked at the sudden illumination, then pulled back to give Stiles a critical once-over. He looked okay--no obvious new bruises or cuts. He winced as Stiles frowned and ran his own fingers over the dark bruise on John's cheek and the split lip.

"Who did this?" he demanded.

John shrugged. "It could have been a lot worse. I'm okay. Just a prisoner and..." He stepped back, keeping one hand lightly gripping Stiles' arm. "How are you here? I wasn't even certain you were alive," the last word was choked out. He still couldn't bear to think about the possibility of losing Stiles.

Stiles ducked his eyes and John narrowed his. When the boy's hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it, his heart sank.

"Tell me, Stiles," he gently coaxed.

"Got anymore whisky?"

"Am I going to need it?"

Stiles sighed and glanced up, then took John's hand and led him into the dining room, flicking on the light switch as he passed. The table was strewn with paperwork, some of Stiles' formerly hidden notebooks on the supernatural, and... "Is that an empty oreo bag?"

"Really Stiles? You're going to scold me about my diet now?"

Stiles flushed but pursed his lips, then opened them undoubtedly to start a lecture, but then he seemed to deflate and sank into his chair. "Yeah, lot worse shit out there to worry about." 

Before he took his own seat, John lifted a clean tumbler from the hutch and placed it in front of Stiles. "I think we're both going to need that drink."

"...Yeah." 

John watched his kid's shoulders, his whole body slump in defeat, and poured them each a finger of whisky, not at all surprised to see Stiles drink it down without coughing or gagging.

He might have been blind to some things--though, really, werewolves? Not anyone's first or hundredth logical answer to anything--but not that teenagers, especially a cop's teenager, drank. "Tell me."

"We get to live, all of us in the pack, as long as we...well, there are conditions." Stiles' finger made slow circles around the empty rim of his glass and beneath the table his other foot tapped out an uneven rhythm, making John wonder when he'd last taken his medication.

"Yeah, I know, dad. After I tell you, I'm gonna go take a pill. I ran out yesterday, I think. The last couple days have all just been a blur, but I'm gonna need to focus tonight."

"What happens tonight? What conditions? You can tell me anything, son, you know that now." Unspoken was the 'you should have always known that' but they'd already had their screaming matches over the dangerous secrets Stiles had kept from him for too long.

"Lydia and I...we're human, and the Alphas don't like that. We both hurt them. I...I killed..." 

John frowned in sympathy and reached out to pat Stiles' other hand. "I know, Gwalltafwyn." Stiles and his magic had killed at least a dozen Beta wolves since the first attack by the Alpha Pack, and he, Deaton and Lydia had wiped out a coven of thirteen witches just two weeks before. When he'd finally confessed all to John, he'd cried like a child in his father's arms over the deaths on his hands, and John had seen the man in his gawky, geeky son for the first time, and comforted him the best he could.

But, taking a life was never easy. Before December first he'd only shot and killed two men in his entire career, and each had wrecked him. Since then, he'd been responsible for the deaths of five wolves, and had used one of Stiles' knives coated with wolfsbane to severely injure one of the ones who'd beaten and imprisoned him.

A trembling hand went to his son's face, rubbing the pale skin. "Oh crap. I'm going to have to tell him my real name."

"Who?"

"Yeah, getting to that," he muttered, took another breath, and reached for the bottle.

"Stiles."

"Just...let me." John sighed but allowed him to pour himself another shot which he downed quickly and then spilled everything without taking a breath. "We get to live, but they want to punish us and I guess letting us live under their thumb and with their rules is going to be punishment, but they really want to make me and Lydia and Derek and Peter as the last Hales really pay so we have to mate. I mean, me and Derek, and Lydia and Peter, and they didn't give us a choice and it's tonight."

Gaping at his pale, stricken son, John tried to let all that sink in, then took the bottle and drank straight from it.

"Yeah," Stiles added mirthlessly. "It's a clusterfuck all around. Lydia's scared to death of Peter. He's still mourning his late mate. Derek, I'm not even sure he likes men, though Peter says he likes me, it's just I'm underage and Derek's freaking about that because he just has to be miserable and a martyr, and that's going to make me miserable, and I like him...too much, dad." His forehead dropped to the table and beneath it his foot continued to tap.

Hesitantly, John reached over and placed one hand on the back of his head, sliding it down to his nape and rubbing it until he heard the sob from Stiles, and he moved his chair closer and leaned down to whisper, "It'll be okay, son. As long as you're alive, you'll find a way to make this work." He kept stroking and petting as Stiles cried, wishing he could do something else, say something to make everything better.

But, his heart was breaking for his boy, and he wasn't even allowing himself to think about all the implications. While he wasn't completely surprised Stiles liked a boy--a man--but, really, Derek Hale? He'd never understand the attraction--he wasn't happy the man in question was more than half a decade older than his underage son, and the cop in him, the father in him, rebelled at that thought.

He wanted to ask questions, learn all the details about what mating entailed, but he knew that would send him spinning and he need to be strong. Stiles would survive.

John just hoped his tender heart would.

"Tonight?" he asked once Stiles seemed to have calmed down.

His son lifted his head, revealing a pale face streaked with tears, reddened, exhausted eyes, and trembling lips, but he just nodded, then sat all the way up and swiped haphazardly at his face. "A little over an hour." His voice was hoarse from crying.

John prayed there were no more tears from his boy tonight, but, while being completely straight himself, he wasn't unaware about the mechanics of sex between two men, and if Derek was in a bad mood, punishing himself, would he hurt Stiles? 

"Can you run?"

He watched Stiles' face close up, lips tighten, and wasn't surprised at the shake of his head. "Not an option. They'll kill everyone if we don't do this. Dad, it's...okay, it sucks, but I'm not fundamentally against the idea. I am attracted to him, have been for a long time. I'll make it work. I'm not going to let Derek be a complete ass about this. I'm more worried about Lydia."

Of course he was and, to be honest, John was concerned about her as well. His few encounters with Peter Hale had left him wondering and worrying about the former Alpha's influence over the kids in his pack. He seemed to be sane--Stiles swore he was, but he'd also glossed over a lot of what he'd done before his death and resurrection and wasn't that a kicker. The man was a killer. He was one of the main reasons the Alpha Pack had descended on Beacon Hills.

Although their position in the hierarchy of the supernatural conquerors had oddly guaranteed the town and most of its inhabitants survival.

While Peter was charming on the surface, the cop in John could see just how broken he was. He was obviously trying to make amends, and Stiles had apparently forgiven him for things he'd also glossed over that had occurred between the two of them, but John had also observed one encounter between Lydia and the older Hale--and Jesus he was so much older; if the six year difference between Derek and Stiles was bad enough, the nearly twenty between Peter and Lydia was definitely criminal--and Lydia's eyes had flashed with terror before a biting comment had issued from her lips and Peter had backed off without a word.

John knew he'd been the one to maul her. Stiles was still angry about that, but he'd accepted Peter being insane and vengeful at that time as an excuse.

Lydia hadn't because more had passed between them that John only knew bits and pieces about. Somehow Peter had manipulated her into bringing him back from death and that had broken something in the girl who had become one of Stiles' dearest friends.

"I'm more worried about you."

"Yeah, but you have to be. Dad, this is going to be really bad. Me and Derek, we'll figure it out, but Lydia...No, she's going to freak. She's already freaking. I tried to get Peter to make them switch us."

"You mean, you and Lydia?"

"No, me and him," Stiles said dismissively as if that mattered nothing at all. John gaped at him again.

"Over my dead body."

"Dad."

"Yes, I can worry about Lydia, but you're my kid, not her. It's going to take me long enough to accept you and...Derek. Peter Hale? No."

Stiles' face closed down but not before some confusing emotion crossed it. They'd agreed no more secrets and John wasn't going to let him get away with keeping anything from him now. He barked, "What?" and Stiles jolted in his chair

"...The night he bit Lydia. The night he died. I told you he kidnaped me and made me help him find Derek. He...um, he offered to turn me."

That didn't actually surprise John. He'd actually wondered why Peter, as the insane Alpha, hadn't just bitten Stiles like he had Scott and Lydia. Consent wasn't needed, although Stiles had been quick to explain to his dad that Derek only bit those who agreed. "And?" The flush across Stiles' cheeks worried him.

"Um...he offered me the Bite on the wrist which I didn't know at the time, but that's actually the first step to claim a mate." His voice died away and he ducked his head, playing with his glass again.

"Jesus," John breathed, heart speeding up in his chest. If Stiles had accepted, and the kid had admitted that, at the time, becoming a werewolf had been tempting, he'd be...

No, he wasn't even going to entertain that thought. Back to Derek, that was enough of a problem.

"What are the steps tonight, Stiles? Will he turn you? If he has to bite you to claim..."

"No. From what I remember, there's a ritual of sorts that prevents an Alpha from turning a human mate when they claim them. The Alphas wanted that, actually. Me turned and Lydia dead since she can't be turned, but Peter talked them down to the matings. Um...I'm not sure about all the details. I mean, I found out about the wrist bite a couple months ago, and a bit about the Alpha/human ritual, but then Peter saw what I was reading and took the book from me and hid it because it was kind of werewolf porn. Anyway," he quickly continued, "There's that bite which is public and in front of the Alphas, I guess, but then the matings are in private. I'm pretty sure sex is involved. There's a bond that has to form, an emotional connection. Werewolves mate for life and the bond affects humans, too."

"How?"

"Dunno. Guess I'll find out," he added baldly, then sighed and pushed back from the table. "I'm going to take a quick shower, put on some non-bloodstained clothes, and pack a few things. I...wish you could be there but Peter didn't know what was going to happen to you or any of our families. It was implied that you're all hostages to us behaving."

"Makes sense. I've been relieved of my job again, but the mayor told me I might get it back. I'm guessing if we all play ball."

"I think the Alpha Pack wants to make Beacon Hills a showpiece of a town under the supernatural's thumb but still functioning. Kind of like Mussolini. The trains'll all run on time but the people will be miserable under a fascist rule."

John couldn't help himself. He snorted, and Stiles gave him a quirky, dark smile in return, before leaning down and giving him a short hug. 

"As long as we're alive..."

"Yeah, kid."

Nodding, Stiles headed for the stairs, and John reached for the cap to the bottle. His head was swimming with whisky, worry, and too many fears and questions, but all he could do was accept for now.

And pray that Derek Hale didn't hurt his kid.

If he was completely honest with himself, he was more worried about Stiles' heart than his body. Physically, the kid was tougher than he looked.

But, he also loved too easily.

End Chapter 2


	4. The Hales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter muses. Derek growls. They both try to face what's coming and Peter tries to get his stubborn nephew to see the light about Stiles, meanwhile refusing to have any hopes about Lydia for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Peter's perspective. The bit about Erica came out of nowhere (some of my best ideas do that) and thanks to a commenter about Jackson, I have plans for him! Way far in the future plans so maybe I should write them down before I forget them... Next up, the ritual and the bites and maybe the Derek/Stiles mating since the chapter's from Stiles' perspective.

Long after Stiles left to go see his dad--now that the Pack were no longer restricted to the Hale House--Peter remained in the kitchen, deep in thought and trying to tune out the other wolves scattered throughout the ruin.

He'd listened in briefly on Isaac and Scott--the former still comforting the latter over the loss of the Argent girl, but Peter hadn't lied. He had fought for the star-crossed lovers. He knew all too well what the loss of a mate could do to a wolf.

Six and a half years later he could still feel the bond burning to ash. It hurt like a new wound.

And now he was expected, ordered to form a new bond when his beloved mate still held his heart.

It was doable. The mate bond broke with death and werewolves who survived could take another mate, but most didn't. It was just too hard to love again.

And matings should be about love, should be a gift.

What was being forced on he and Derek was a perversion of all the mating bond should be.

Although he did have more hope for Derek and Stiles. There was possibility there. Stiles already cared for his nephew and if anyone could pull Derek from his martyred celibacy it was their stubborn mage. He'd refused to be pushed out of the pack for his own safety. He'd refused to stop learning to use his natural magic to help them. He'd refused to run with his father. He was young and willful.

The kid would fight Derek tooth and nail to make their relationship real.

Peter didn't have such hope for Lydia.

Just thinking her name let him hear her through several walls and he winced in sympathy at the sound of her still crying.

With the others, even after Jackson's defection, she presented herself as a strong, vital young woman. She'd stood up to Deucalion armed only with her brains and a tiny dagger dipped in wolfsbane and forced him to back down, if only temporarily.

But, the few times she'd been alone with Peter--always on accident--she'd become someone else. That terrified girl he'd trapped himself with in her mind. The one who'd flinched from his touch, whimpered helplessly in fear, let him kiss her because she had no escape and she didn't want to be hurt.

In his desperation to survive, he'd raped her mind. Was it any wonder that she believed he'd rape her body as well?

Peter tuned the two girls out--Erica was crying, too, the she-wolf still hurt so badly from her capture that she could commiserate with the one girl she'd never have spent a second with before.

Which meant they put him on a level with the Alpha Pack males and their brutality towards Beta females.

He supposed he deserved that. How much of a leap was it from psychotic killer to rapist?

So lost in his thoughts, he nearly jumped when the back door banged open and shut and Derek stomped into the kitchen, not even trying to be quiet. He was sweating and flushed and his knuckles were dirty. He'd obviously shifted to run.

As he watched his nephew drink water straight from the tap, trying not to roll his eyes since there were perfectly good plastic cups sitting right next to the sink, he wondered if Stiles would be a good enough influence on him that Derek would learn to shift fully. It was something a born wolf could do at sixteen when considered an adult, but Derek had been just shy of that age when the fire occurred and then too lost and broken to bother trying. As far as Peter knew he'd never shifted to the Alpha form either.

Sometimes Peter missed the Alpha form with all its power, but at least he was still able to shift to full wolf. That his nephew refused to even try to experience such a joy was baffling to him.

"Where's Stiles?" Derek growled, eyes glowing red as they seemed to do almost all the time now.

"He went to talk to his father. He'll be back."

Derek's shoulders twitched but all he did was head across the kitchen for the hall.

"Do you want to talk about Stiles?"

"No." He stopped but didn't turn back.

"Okay, Derek, we need to talk about Stiles." Peter's voice lost all gentleness. He liked the kid and Derek was going to be a complete bastard to him.

Growling low, Derek slowly turned but didn't attack, just crossed his arms over his chest and glared. Peter took that as a positive sign. 

"What?"

"The boy cares about you..." Peter realized his mistake when Derek's eyes hardened and flashed an even darker crimson. He resisted growling back at his nephew. "If he was a wolf, he'd be of age, Derek. He's not a child. It's a testament to his strength of will and his belief in himself that he's refused the Bite from both of us. It will do you no good to think of him as a child. It will probably offend him to be treated like one since you've never done so before."

"Is there a point to this?" Derek bit out.

"With the attitude you're sporting you're going to ruin something that could be--should be-- the best thing that will ever happen to you." Derek's glare deepened but Peter had changed his diapers and wasn't going to be intimidated by his petulance. "Stiles cares about you a lot, Derek. Even you can't be so dense you don't know that."

A momentary softening crossed the Alpha's face, but then he shook his head and angrily snapped, "He wants me. Teenage lust."

"It's more than that and you'd know that if you'd pull your head out of your ass."

"Shut up, Peter."

Since his response had no real threat behind it, Peter didn't. "You know, maybe I should have fought Deucalion harder and claimed Stiles myself."

If looks could kill...

Peter managed not to smirk. "He'll be a good mate. You have to know that."

"I don't want a mate. And don't tell me you do either," Derek finally lashed back. "You'd fuck him, I know that, and, frankly I'm kind of surprised you haven't. He was desperate enough for attention he almost gave himself to that prick Aiden after all; he probably would have been an easy lay for you when you pulled him back into the Pack. But you wouldn't mate him."

No, he wouldn't, not if it was his choice. "You know why," he replied softly. "You don't have that excuse. That bitch wasn't your mate even if you wanted her to be."

Derek's fist shot out and Peter barely ducked out of the way of the blow. Holding up his hands in supplication, he moderated his tone. "Calm down, Derek. The claiming is an hour away. Are you going to growl and stomp your way through it?"

"What do you expect, Peter? Should I be happy to have this forced on me? Are you happy?"

"No, but I'm not going to disrespect my mate by acting like a bitchy child. I'm not going to give those fuckers any satisfaction."

That actually seemed to get through to Derek and, though he frowned, he relaxed just slightly. "So, we do the ritual, even though it doesn't mean..." The red in his eyes faded and for the first time in months, he looked young. Peter's heart ached in sympathy. It shouldn't be like this, no.

"It means what we make of it," he replied softly.

"There's no time to prepare them, to explain anything. Stiles has no idea what's being forced on him. How can I...?" Derek turned away and pounded his fist on the table. "Dammit, Peter. It shouldn't be like this." Unknowingly he echoed his uncle's unspoken words because they were the truth.

Carefully Peter approached and placed a hand on his nephew's taut shoulder. When Derek didn't reject it, he rubbed gently, then squeezed. "No, but we're alive and you have the chance to make this mating all it should be."

"Don't think I didn't notice how you switched from plural to singular there, uncle," Derek ground out.

"I don't see anything good for Lydia and I."

"You could try."

"...She won't."

Derek's head fell forward, then he straightened and turned. "She won't really have a choice, though. None of us will."

"That's why it's punishment." Stepping back, Peter watched his nephew shut down again and mentally sighed. Stubborn jackass. "You reek. Go clean up. Stiles deserves better than you coming to him dirty and sweaty."

"Stiles deserves better than me period," Derek snarled, then stomped out of the kitchen.

"Well, that went well," Peter muttered to himself, then jerked his head up as Erica slipped into the room. There were reddened smudges under her eyes but otherwise she looked composed and harder than she'd been since the Pack fell to the Alphas and took Beacon Hills with it.

It was good to see the toughness still existed in her.

"I think I've got her calmed down enough to get through this."

"Thank you."

Erica shrugged. "She's pack." She shook her head, a wry look on her face. "Never would have thought I'd see Lydia Martin break down so badly over anything. She's really scared of you."

"She has every right to be."

"Jesus, you gonna just be mister stoic all evening?"

His eyes snapped to her and he bared his teeth. "Do you really think this isn't affecting me?"

"I don't see you crying your eyes out."

"Female solidarity, hm?" The edge to his voice had her dipping her eyes slightly, a young female Beta's instinctive submission to an older male.

"I guess, when you told us, you didn't seem...happy."

"I want to live. If this is the price I owe, I'll pay it. Lydia will learn that's the only way we're going to survive, because I won't lose another mate."

"...Oh. Yeah, I kind of forgot, sorry. I..."

He waved off her apologies. "I don't talk about her because thinking about her makes the hole inside me throb in agony." Her flush and drooping shoulders and chin gave the wolf in him pleasure to stave off the pain of loss. "I never planned to take another mate. And that's all I'm going to say to you about it, Erica. You need to focus on your own mate, because the Alpha Pack rules us now and if you don't finalize the bond, they'll break it." He felt a bit sorry when she paled so dramatically, but during their final negotiations Ethan had made too many snide remarks and allusions about the girl. The rescue of Boyd and Erica was one of the Hale Pack's few victories and still stuck in that Alpha's craw. He'd be thrilled to get her back in his claws. "You know what they use Beta females for, Erica. Do you want them to breed you?"

"No," she stammered. "I thought...I thought I was finally safe." Tears sprang into her eyes, and Peter softly sighed and drew her shaking body into his arms. He hadn't meant to scare her, but he was on edge and saying things he should have discussed with Derek first.

"They're not coming for you. But they could. There's no way to guarantee any of our safety but it would be better if the bond was fulfilled."

"I don't know if I can," she whimpered into his shoulder.

"Boyd loves you. He'd never hurt you." He stroked her back as he spoke soothingly. "You love him, too, and that's where a true mating should come from. Just trust him."

"I do."

A soft noise came from the doorway and Peter looked up to see Boyd standing there, his face more open than he'd seen in months. Carefully he transferred the girl to him and watched them murmur to each other as they left the kitchen wrapped around each other.

"Is this how you were before the fire?"

Startled, Peter turned towards the half broken in back door. He'd been so caught up in Erica's fear and his own concerns he hadn't even noticed Stiles' return. Shrugging his shoulders in response, he noted the duffel bag on the boy's shoulder, the smell of soap and deoderant, the clean clothes.

"Um...I wasn't sure if I was supposed to dress up."

"Traditionally, yes. It's very much like a wedding. Or it's supposed to be, but nothing is how it's supposed to be, so don't worry about it. Derek will be in his normal storm cloud black and gray anyway."

Stiles snorted and set the bag on the table. "Dad's not happy, but he's okay. There are several wolves keeping him in his house and they beat the shit out of him, but he's alive. You didn't say, but I assume our families are hostages to make us obey, right?"

"It was implied that those still alive will remain so as long as we follow the rules. Even your father, despite his fighting against them."

Stiles nodded in relief. "Is...Is Derek back?"

"Yeah. I can hear his razor. He's actually shaving."

"So, no stubble burn. That's good to know."

"Humor is always your weapon of choice."

"Nah, that's a gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets, but humor keeps me from screaming until I go hoarse."

Peter chuckled darkly.

"Did you talk to Lydia?"

And whatever humor he felt fled and he shook his head.

"Dude. She's freaking."

"My talking to her isn't going to calm her. Erica did her best. Maybe you could...Help her clean up at least?"

He grabbed the bag again. "Sure. How long do we have?"

"I would guess they'll be here in less than twenty minutes to oversee the claims."

"And then..." Stiles gestured around himself and blushed. "Here?"

"I don't know about Derek's plans. I'm taking Lydia to my apartment. I'm not claiming a new mate among the ashes of my family and..." He nearly said her name, nearly acknowledged her and his loss and, fuck, the pain...

Sympathy on his face, Stiles touched his arm gently, then quickly left the kitchen.

Peter slumped back against the counter and forced his mind to go blank.

End Chapter 3


	5. The Mage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun sets, the moon begins to rise and the Alpha Pack arrive to oversee the claiming bites. After everyone leaves, Stiles is stuck with an unhappy Alpha who has to finalize the bond by dawn or they're dead, which means Stiles is about to lose his virginity and it's not going to be pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in posting the next chapter, so here's a really long one with sex (unhappyish sex). Is it dubcon? Well, they don't have a choice; it's not all that pleasant, but it's not quite as hopeless as it might have been because Stiles is stubborn. And, next up is Lydia's POV as she faces mating with Peter. That won't be pleasant either.

Duffel bag over one shoulder, Stiles quietly walked into the back room the Betas had been sleeping in. Strewn across the floor were sleeping bags and blankets, dirty clothes and bags of what few personal possessions any of them had with them. They hadn't planned to be trapped here for several days.

Now they were free, but, as far as he could tell, he was the only one who had left.

Lydia sat in a corner on a pile of blankets, knees drawn up to her bruised chin, looking up at him from beneath hooded eyes.

Dumping the bag, he crouched in front of her, waiting for her to see how this would go.

"I'm done freaking."

His lips twitched but he couldn't smile even at her snappy comment. "You want to get cleaned up?" Offering her his hand, he was half-surprised she took it, but they both stood.

"Since he's going to fuck me whether I'm covered in mud, stinking like a barnyard or clean as a whistle, I'll choose clean.

Stiles winced but kept his mouth shut and watched as she pulled cleaner clothes from a bag along with make-up. Lydia hadn't worn any for days, but he recognized it as part of her armor. Across the hall was a functioning bathroom with a tiny shower and he followed her out there, taking a place next to the door as she went in and close it behind her. The sound of water hitting tile reached him and he wondered if she'd use it to mask more tears.

His own quick shower had seen a few tears of his own, because despite all his bravado and his belief he could make Derek accept this as something real and good, he was an insecure sixteen year old virgin.

He was scared, not only of the the pain from the bites, but the unknown of sex with someone so very angry and broken as Derek was.

And, also at the future and all the implications of mating and bonding that he was trying not to think about.

Not wanting to downplay Lydia's fears, Stiles tried not to be more scared than she was, but at least she'd had sex before. Her terror of Peter had to balance his own inexperience--he wasn't going to call it innocence. He wasn't a thirteen year old girl.

The water turned off quicker than he would have expected from Lydia, but then hot water was an issue and it was already chilly in the house with no furnace and two wolves who, understandably, refused to allow them fires.

"You still out there?"

"Yep."

"Are you ready for this?"

"...Nope."

He heard her snort and responded in kind. Maybe inappropriate humor would get them through this.

"I know you've read up on all of it. With...with Jackson gone," she stumbled slightly over mentioning him but Stiles could hear the strength in her voice. "I never planned to ever bond with a wolf, so I didn't ask the details. I know Scott managed somehow to initiate the claim and complete it by total accident, which is typical, but I'd prefer to know what's coming."

Sighing, Stiles ducked his head for a moment and ran over all the information he'd gleaned before Peter had taken the book away. "Well, I don't know everything and some of it may be false or incomplete. I do know the initial bite is on the wrist. That's the one they'll be doing in front of everyone," he added sourly. The thought of the Alpha Pack gloating over them during something so intimate, something that should be for Pack and family, pissed him off.

"Initial?" Lydia sharply asked and Stiles glanced at the door, imagining her pressed against it, waiting for him to reveal her fate.

"Yeah. The second...well, it's during the sex. It's what sets the bond in place. It's on the nape of the neck. If we were wolves, we'd bite them back," he said in a rush, not wanting to think of the coming pain. "If we were wolves and this was mutual, it would...be different."

"The skin is thin in both those spots. It's going to hurt."

Stiles winced at the emptiness in her voice. "Yeah."

"Did he...did he say if it would be here, in the ruins?"

"Peter told me he was taking you to his apartment. I have no idea what Derek's planning. I haven't talked to him."

"You should, Stiles."

"Will you talk to Peter?" he asked candidly.

Silence was her only response and Stiles sighed again, then nodded to himself. "You okay to finish getting ready? You're right, I should go talk to Derek."

"Go."

Noting that she didn't say if she was okay, he went anyway.

*****

After knocking and waiting for a moment for a response that didn't come, Stiles pushed open the door to Derek's second floor room and immediately shivered. The roof was still whole here, but the window and part of the adjoining wall was gone. Derek or someone had tacked a blanket over it, but it didn't really keep out the cold. It was also dark and Stiles wished he'd brought a candle--the flashlights and lanterns had run out of juice the night before and he hadn't thought to bring fresh batteries from his house.

Wrapping his arms around himself to stop the shivers, he waited for a few minutes and then Derek walked in, wrapped in a towel, still damp from his shower, and freshly shaven.

Stiles hadn't seen him without stubble for so long he couldn't help but stare.

Derek glowered, brushed past him, and started digging through a plastic crate of clothes.

Neither spoke but, naturally, Stiles was the first one to break, especially when Derek carelessly dropped the towel and pulled on a pair of black jeans sans underwear.

He had a really nice ass.

"Okay, look, I know this isn't ideal, but we need to talk."

Another glower was shot over Derek's shoulder, then he turned back to find a shirt. And, yes, it was dark gray.

Stiles sighed inside his head and wondered if he could introduce some color into Derek's life. "You just going to ignore me?"

"Is that possible?"

"Nope."

"There's nothing to talk about." The bite to his words was muffled by his long sleeved t-shirt going over his head.

Staring at him in complete disbelief, Stiles tried to wrap his head around that. "What?"

"There's nothing we can do. Why talk about it?"

"Because...because...mates, sex, biting, and more sex. Derek!" He flailed. He couldn't help himself.

Finally, Derek turned and faced him, arms crossed over his chest, which, on him, was more an offensive than defensive pose, eyebrows furrowed as tightly as they possibly could be, glower still on his face.

He never looked happy. Stiles wondered what that would look like.

"We don't have a choice," Derek enunciated, a growl under each word.

"Does that mean it has to suck?"

No answer.

Stiles bit his lower lip and hesitantly asked, "Does it have to be here?"

Peter had an apartment. It was a nice apartment with lots of windows and some potted plants. He lived off the Hale family's long term investments and insurance proceeds from the deaths and the fire. After his awakening from his "coma", he'd had to fight the insurance company, but with his determination and a few not so subtle threats, he'd won. Why did Derek insist on living in a falling down, burned out shell?

Oh, right, because he was a martyr.

"Do you want to do it at your dad's?"

Flushing at the harsh response and the image it produced, he shook his head and dropped his eyes to the floor. This was really going to suck.

"This is where I live. Deal with it." Turning his back again, Derek reached for socks and boots.

"Deal with it?" Stiles yelled. "Deal with it? What the fuck, Derek? What the actual fuck?"

"Yes," Derek snarled, flinging a boot at the wall before stalking towards Stiles who instinctively backed into the door. "In less than an hour I'm going to bite you, then fuck you, and any future you might have wished for is going to be over."

"I might have wished for you."

At his bravado, Derek snarled and took the final step to bring their bodies flush, pressing Stiles harder into the unyielding wood. "That was never going to happen."

"Liar!"

Shooting him a look of annoyed disbelief, Derek shoved him once in the shoulder, then turned away to go put on his socks and boots, completely dismissing his soon-to-be mate.

Stiles forced himself to calm down and pushed away from the door, but didn't approach the angry wolf. "I don't need to be a werewolf to know you're lying. You want me. You just can't let yourself be happy."

"This is not going to make either of us happy. That's the point."

At the desolation in Derek's voice, Stiles finally accepted defeat--if only momentary--and let his shoulders slump as he murmured, "It might, if you let it."

When there was no response, he left, quietly closing the door behind him, before carefully taking the half-rotten stairs down to the main room. Everyone was gathered there, including Lydia who was curled in an easy chair missing half its stuffing. Peter was standing on the opposite side of the room pointedly not looking at her.

All the other wolves turned to look at Stiles and, knowing they'd heard everything, he flushed and then shrugged. "He's an ass."

Scott snorted in agreement, and whatever conversations his arrival had interrupted resumed quietly. Stiles moved to perch on a stool next to Lydia, who briefly looked up at him, then back at her lap. For the first time in a long time she wore a dress and make-up, but she still didn't look like her old self.

Maybe none of them did anymore.

Reaching over, he took one of her hands and squeezed it in reassurance.

Derek chose that moment to make an appearance, jumping down most of the stairs and landing in a crouch, which had Peter rolling his eyes and Erica quietly snorting in amusement. 

"Yes, let's stir up more dust in this place."

Feeling like applauding Peter, Stiles instead chose to frown at Derek who ignored him and went to stand by his uncle. Peter must have said something for his ears only because the Alpha's dark look turned even darker and he snarled. Whatever he said back wiped all emotion from his uncle's face as Peter went blank and stiff.

Yeah, they were both going to be in great moods for mating.

At that thought, Stiles' body tensed and he started mentally flipping through ways to make this not suck, but if Derek refused to cooperate...

The eyes of all the wolves went to the door and Lydia stiffened next to him, her fingers tightening around his.

"They're here," Scott said unnecessarily, because that was quite obvious.

As Alpha, Derek went to the door and opened it, then stepped onto the porch. Peter glanced at Stiles and Lydia then nodded towards the door before following his nephew outside, and Stiles stood and pulled Lydia up with him. Beneath her make-up she'd gone pale, her eyes wide with fear.

"It'll be okay."

"I...I don't know...Stiles, how do I do this?"

"You be Lydia."

She stared at him for a long moment and then he saw something cross her face, a hint of the strength she used to wear as casually as her dress. With it shown the intelligence that she still hid too often and, okay, the bitchiness that she didn't. "Don't let them see I'm scared, right?"

Nodding, he led her towards the door, the rest of the Pack following them.

Outside in the gloom of nightfall stood the five Alphas, arrayed around the former front lawn and supported by at least two dozen Betas. The Beta wolves were all shifted and Stiles knew his own Pack followed suit behind him as they headed down the four steps to the lawn. Derek stood at the center, about ten feet from Deucalion, also in the center. Peter was at his right, just a step behind him. Stiles knew Scott's place was on Derek's left, but he also knew, that after tonight, that was his place.

Giving Lydia's hand one last squeeze he let her go and moved towards Derek, hoping she could keep it together and go to Peter. Scott joined him but ceded his place, keeping a step back but to Stiles' left as Stiles stood even with their Alpha. It just felt right, like they would be equals after this.

Since Derek didn't glare or growl at him--or acknowledge him at all--he figured he was right. A quick glance showed him that Lydia was next to Peter, her spine straight, her chin up in defiance as she stared directly at the lead Alpha, who was ignoring her, though his eyes had passed over Stiles a couple times.

Too bad Lydia hadn't managed to kill the bastard. He was truly freaked by her. Stiles hoped that gave her strength to get through this.

"So, your little mates are here." Kali was the one to speak from Deucalion's right--they might all be Alphas but there was still a hierarchy.

"As we negotiated," Peter replied firmly.

"I'm surprised they didn't try to run and leave you to your fates."

"We may be small. We may be young. But our Pack and our Pack humans are loyal."

A sour look crossed the she-wolf's face but she nodded shortly. "The moon is rising. Let's get this over with. The new year is coming and we have a world to rule."

As the Alpha's enforcer, Ethan spoke from the left. "As agreed, you may use any rituals specific to your Pack for the claiming bites. The matings will be private." Which, from the nasty and lascivious look he shot Stiles, he obviously didn't approve of. "But if it doesn't happen before dawn, and we'll know, all your wolves will die and we'll take both your humans as prizes for loyal Alphas."

Kali took over again. "We'll meet back here at the rise of the sun to sign the treaty. I suggest that your pets not shower."

Stiles couldn't help but make a face at that and he could feel Derek tense beside him, but Peter nodded calmly. "The terms have already been agreed to. We'll be here at dawn with our mates."

At that, Deucalion was the one to nod as he crossed his arms over his chest and, like with Derek, it was an offensive pose. Around him, his Betas began to stir in anticipation. Behind him, Stiles could tell their own three were moving closer until Derek held up his hand which stopped them in their tracks.

Wondering if the Hales had any specific rituals and what they might be, Stiles failed to realize that Derek had turned to him and was taking his arm until he caught a flash of red eyes and fangs and then those fangs were biting into his right wrist. Biting back a yelp, he tried not to react but it fucking hurt and a tremor went through him. A quiet moan from Lydia drew his attention and he saw Peter bent over her arm as well, saw her quivering in pain and fear, but her eyes were on Deucalion, and the Alpha was still ignoring her.

Good for her.

Derek's grunt and the release of his arm pulled him back to the moment and he couldn't help it. "Ow."

His Alpha, his...fuck, mate, growled at him and didn't shift back, just turned those red eyes and fangs to the invading pack. "It's done."

"So romantic," Kali smirked. "Have fun boys. Or, suffer, whatever turns you on." With a wave of her hand over her head, like a cowboy signaling a round-up, she turned towards her Betas and urged them back into the woods.

Looking down at the two bleeding puncture wounds in his wrist, Stiles pressed his other hand over them and hoped he didn't bleed to death. They weren't as deep as a turning bite, which he figured, since there'd been no rituals to prevent that like he'd read about--what the fuck?--meant he wouldn't turn.

If he turned, he was kicking Derek's ass.

The five Alphas were the last to leave, blending into the dark forest just as the moon broke above the treeline.

"So, no fancy words? No lighting a candle together? No ritual foods or mutual bathing of our foreheads?"

"Do you think we'd share any of that with them?"

Stiles saw Derek glance at the way he was holding his wrist, then give him a sour look, before biting out, "Go bandage that. You all, go home," he said to the Pack. "Part of the deal was you're no longer trapped here. You don't need to be here for the signing in the morning either."

The Betas seemed to know there should have been celebrations and a feast at a claiming, and they were subdued as they nodded, said their farewells and headed for their cars parked at the back of the house.

Arm throbbing now, Stiles glanced over at Lydia, saw her wrapping a handkerchief around her bleeding wrist, saw Peter looking not at her, but him, then the older male nodded and took his mate's uninjured arm to lead her to his car. She stiffened but went with him.

Stiles wondered how she was going to deal with what was coming. How fragile she was where Peter was concerned bothered them all, but nothing Peter had done to try to alleviate her fear had helped. This could only get worse.

"You might want to worry about yourself rather than my uncle's mate," Derek growled before stomping towards the house.

"Yeah, like I'm going to stop worrying about her. She's my friend."

"Make sure it's never more than that or we're all dead."

"Wait. What?" He hurried after the Alpha, annoyance flooding him. "You think I still want her? Dude, I gave up on that months ago. I'm pretty sure I mentioned I would have chosen you if given a choice. You never listen to me."

And, he ignored him now.

Rolling his eyes in frustration, Stiles slammed the door behind him and headed for the downstairs bathroom and the first aid kit. At the moment, he didn't care where Derek went.

Lydia had left an old-fashioned hurricane lamp lit--not a safe thing to do in a half-burned house but he was grateful he didn't have to fumble in the dark as his wrist continued to bleed and hurt and he was just pissed off. Plopping down on the closed toilet, he dug under the sink for alcohol, cotton balls, and a large gauze bandage. The alcohol sent a jolt of fresh, stinging pain through him, but he held the cotton ball to the punctures until the bleeding stopped, then inexpertly covered them with the bandage, the adhesive wrapping half-way around his narrow wrist. Derek had only used his top fangs so the wounds were only on the inner wrist.

He was pretty sure the bite on his neck was going to be all four and was going to hurt like a bitch. And, the way Derek was acting, he probably wasn't going to get any of those nice endorphins from an orgasm to help him through the pain.

Replacing the alcohol beneath the sink, he stood and faced the mirror, his reflection dim in the pale light, but he could still see how unhappy he was.

And scared.

A tremor went through his shoulders and he took a bracing breath, then turned off the lamp and left the dark bathroom. He retrieved his duffel from the other room, then headed to the main area of the house. Enough light from the moon and stars shown through the few windows and various holes in the walls to let him see his way up the stairs. The door to Derek's room was open and there was a golden glow from a candle beckoning him in. Hesitantly Stiles crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him, then dropped the bag with a soft thud.

The room was colder than before and Stiles shivered and hugged himself, his hoodie, even with his t-shirt and flannel, not thick enough to keep him warm. He had no clue how he was even going to get a hard-on in the chilly, dank room.

Though, he supposed, it wasn't necessary he come, just Derek.

If that was even going to happen. Despite Peter's assurances, he wasn't convinced Derek wanted him and could get it up either.

He supposed he could help with that. He was pretty much an expert at jerking off. Another guy's dick couldn't be that much different than his. At least he knew werewolves having knots was fiction along with mpreg. Made for good porn stories, though.

Slipping out of a shadowy corner, wearing only his jeans, Derek didn't look at all cold and Stiles envied the werewolf's naturally higher body temperature.

"Get out of your clothes and under the blankets."

"You know, we could go get a motel room, be all toasty." Part of him wanted to be warmer. Part of him wanted to delay the inevitable.

Derek frowned and pointed to the mattress on the floor, strewn with a couple, thankfully thick, blankets and one lumpy pillow.

How fucking romantic.

Kicking off his shoes, tempted to leave on his socks, Stiles moved towards the mattress as he slipped off his hoodie and shirt, then fiddled with his belt. A cold draft hit him and he said to Hell with modesty and got his jeans off in record time, then dragged his t-shirt over his head and dropped to his knees on the mattress, yanking the blankets around himself as he lay down. Using his toes, he peeled off his socks, then reached down and wriggled out of his boxer shorts before pulling them out from beneath the blankets and tossing them at Derek.

Who just glowered at him.

"None of this is my fault, you know. You could at least try make this not horrible."

The glowering faded a bit, but Derek continued to stare at him, looking like he was trying to fight off annoyance and frustration, but there was something else there, too. Something Stiles had seen earlier, a flash of hurt, but then the older man shook it off, dropped his eyes, and reached for the buttons on his jeans.

Not wanting to watch this, Stiles looked away and tugged the blankets to his chin.

"You're cold."

"Yeah. I mentioned that. We could have been in a heated motel room," he muttered.

The blankets lifted and then Derek was in the bed with him and at least he was warm even though he didn't touch him. Their heads shared the pillow barely, and then Stiles shifted closer and their shoulders brushed.

Derek didn't flinch away.

Heart thumping painfully in his chest, Stiles closed his eyes and whispered, "Can you at least try to make this not suck for me, Derek?"

He wasn't actually surprised when he didn't verbally respond. In the nine months of their acquaintance, Stiles could count on one hand the number of questions Derek had answered without more than one prompt. Feeling his stomach clenching, he was kind of glad he hadn't eaten anything in awhile, wished he hadn't drank that whisky at his dad's, and let his eyes fall shut in resignation.

Next to him the mattress shifted and the shoulder touching him turned into a chest and Stiles kept his eyes shut, waiting for Derek to move over him or flip him onto his stomach and just be horrible.

The surprisingly soft brush of lips on his made his eyes fly open and he jerked back.

Derek humphed and leaned down for another kiss, this one more forceful, his upper body pinning Stiles' down, and all he could do was open his mouth and respond.

It was nothing like the couple spin the bottle kisses he'd had in middle school.

Nothing at all.

Derek knew what he was doing and his lips were firm and his tongue searching and Stiles tried to follow where he was leading. Body turning into the larger, firmer one, he felt the heat spread across his skin and slowly relaxed his tense muscles.

The kiss deepened, grew wet, noisy and Derek's hand wrapped around his shoulder, pulled him closer, and Stiles went and felt something that wasn't a hand or thigh pressing against his hip.

Okay, maybe he wouldn't need to jerk his mate to an erection.

When Derek drew back, Stiles could feel the flush on his cheeks and hoped he didn't look too stupid. Slowly he lifted his eyes from his mate's wet lips--that was his spit!--and was surprised to see a softness he'd never seen before in those hazel orbs. And the hand on his shoulder was rubbing gently. It was the same shoulder he'd shoved only an hour or so earlier.

The two touches couldn't have been more different.

And Stiles couldn't keep quiet or keep the hope out of his voice. "If we make it, well, not suck, we win, right?"

He should have kept his fucking mouth shut because Derek's face closed down, the softness in his eyes disappearing, his body stiffening, but his hard-on was still there.

"There's no winning." The comment wasn't harsh or cruel or even angry, just empty, and what little desire Stiles had begun to feel vanished, too. "This isn't a game."

"I didn't mean it like that," he protested, but Derek turned away from him and started fumbling through a box on the floor next to the mattress.

"I can't bite your nape if you're on your back. Roll over."

So fucking empty.

Making a frustrated sound, Stiles obeyed, wincing as he smashed his sore wrist down on the hard mattress, then crossed his arms and pressed his face against them, avoiding the wounds as best he could. The blankets were shoved down and he shivered and grunted. "Jesus." Then he felt Derek straddle his thighs, bringing some heat, but not enough, and he kind of wished he'd left his shirt on. It didn't seem to matter as long as his ass was bare.

Speaking of...a slippery finger was poking between his cheeks, and he flushed and tried to relax and tried not to think or wish or...As the lubed finger pushed into him hard and determined, he hated his big mouth, hated Derek for being an obstinate bastard, hated the whole Alpha Pack.

His shivering back was suddenly blanketed by Derek's heated body and the warmth was so surprising he didn't realize a second finger was pushing into him until they both began to twist and spread.

"God," he breathed. It hurt but he was glad Derek was at least bothering to prep him, and the warmth was nice.

"Relax," Derek growled softly into his upturned ear.

"Trying," Stiles replied through clenched teeth, and he really was, it was just...not the way he'd ever dreamed this would happen. When he felt a third finger pressing at the rim of his hole, he tensed.

"Stiles, you need to relax."

"Do you have to be so fast?"

Derek stilled, breathing tightly against his neck and cheek, and Stiles opened his eyes to stare across the room at the flickering candle sitting on a trunk. The blanket over the window fluttered and the cold hit his face and everything was so damn bleak. Finally, Derek said softly, "I...I don't know how to make this good, Stiles. I can't think straight. Everything's gone to Hell and I'm too fucking broken." His forehead pressed against Stiles' back, and the anger and frustration just dissipated replaced by sorrow and just a bit of compassion.

Peter had been right. Derek was martyring himself. That's why they were doing this here, in the ashes of his home, his family. He was punishing himself more than the Alpha Pack could have imagined, and Stiles didn't know how to make him stop or if it was even possible.

They had to do this tonight because if he was still a virgin at dawn, Derek was dead. Scott was dead. The Pack was...dead.

And Stiles couldn't have that on his conscience.

Derek's erection had flagged. His fingers weren't moving any more. He was waiting.

Not for permission. That was implicit in Stiles' agreement to the mating. But, maybe for acceptance that he didn't have it in him to make this good for either of them?

Could that be learned?

God, Stiles hoped so.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes again, and urged, "Derek, go on. We have to do this. Just...I'll try to relax, I will. Just don't stop, okay?"

He felt his mate nod, then the third finger pressed inside and Stiles couldn't hold back his hiss, but he really did try to relax the muscles and let him in. As the digits twisted inside him, Derek began to press kisses to his neck and shoulders, and Stiles wasn't completely sure he was aware he was doing it, but it felt good, made him shiver with something other than cold.

And then the tip of one finger brushed against a spot inside him that sent a bolt of something that was almost pleasure up his spine, and Stiles gasped. Trapped against the mattress his cock twitched, and, when the finger pressed harder, his hips bucked up.

So, the prostate and how good it could feel was a real thing.

He wasn't sure he was going to get hard, but this didn't completely suck anymore, and he swallowed convulsively and arched into the next push of fingers. Against one butt cheek he could feel Derek's cock harden again and it began to rub against him, leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum. That was good, right? Meant he was ready?

Though Stiles wasn't sure he was ready, and when the three fingers pulled nearly free and a fourth brushed his sensitive hole, he moaned helplessly in more than a little fear, but the head of that cock was not small and four was probably a good idea.

When it joined the other three inside him, Stiles bit his lower lip and arched his trembling back, but forced down a cry. Fuck, it hurt.

"Sorry," Derek muttered against his shoulder blade, lips pressed hotly there, and Stiles was kind of shocked he'd apologized. Enough that he relaxed again and the pain eased. "I don't want...to tear you. Jesus, you're tight."

"No fucking kidding."

No, he really couldn't keep his mouth completely shut.

A half growl, half sigh broke from Derek and he pushed the four fingers as deep as he could, then pulled them out and lifted up to his knees. "Pull your knees beneath you and keep your head down. It'll be easier that way." He moved enough that Stiles could struggle into the position he wanted, his body both cold again and hot in an all over flush, because now his ass was in the air and Derek was looking at it. That seemed to be more embarrassing than having his four fingers up his hole.

The moment of silence was broken by the sound of slick flesh meeting flesh and Stiles peeked over his shoulder to watch his mate stroking lube onto his cock.

His thick and long cock and oh fuck no that was not going to fit!

Instinctively, he tried to drop down to his stomach, wriggle away, but, as if he could read his panic, Derek grabbed his hip, digging in with bruising fingers, and tightened his knees against Stiles' shaking thighs. "Stay relaxed," he hissed, then grunted and the slick noises stopped.

Fuck, was there enough lube in the world to prepare him for this?

Trapped, Stiles tried to calm down, tried to relax his loosened muscles again, because this had to happen and if it wasn't going to be out of love and passion, then getting it the fuck over with was for the best.

But, he was sixteen and a virgin and he really wanted Derek but not like this and he didn't know how to make it better and...

When pain punched into him, Stiles yelped in shock. While he'd been mentally flailing, Derek had taken his other hip and pushed his cock into him in one, hard thrust that got him halfway in, and then before he could catch his breath, another thrust pushed him deeper and...

Flapping his left arm backwards, whether to hit him or ward him off or he didn't know what, Stiles fingers brushed Derek's thigh, and he found it shaking as much as his own.

And Stiles calmed and Derek's cock slid in to his balls.

"Jesus, Stiles," he panted harshly. "Just...let me..."

"O--okay." His voice sounded pathetic to him, but when he stilled, Derek's fingers loosened a bit and his hips drew back and he began to fuck.

It hurt, but Stiles could stand it. He had to. And a couple times the cock inside him rubbed his prostate and that sent that bolt of tingling pleasure through him again, and maybe if he was hard, it would feel really good.

Stiles kept his hand on Derek, connecting them in a way Derek wouldn't let himself, and closed his eyes again, breathing as evenly as he could through the spreading soreness, trying to control the trembling in his legs as muscles clenched in ways they weren't used to. After a few minutes, Derek's thrusts sped up and he began to grunt harshly. As his hard pelvis began to slap against his softer ass, Stiles winced at the new pain. 

Sitting was going to be a joy for the next couple of days.

"I'm close. I have to bite," the wolf growled, and Stiles opened his eyes to look over his shoulder. The red eyes and fangs were back. He nodded and turned his head to press his forehead into his arm.

The fingers on his hips turned into claws and a couple accidentally dug into his skin before Derek leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Stiles' stomach where the claws only lightly scraped. Stiles tried to stay still, but he was shivering again, this time more in anticipation than cold, and when his mate's hips stuttered, slamming harder against him, and his growl deepened, he knew it was all about to end.

Derek came and bit at the same moment, and Stiles couldn't hold back his yowl of shocked pain from what felt like knives in his neck, even as warm cum soothed his sore ass. Pinned by his mate, he couldn't do anything but accept the bite, the fucking, and the bond that snapped into place.

Heat flooded his veins, spilled from his pores, and his cock hardened. Withdrawing his fangs, Derek started suckling at the wound, and thrust his hips again, grinding into him, draining his dick, even as Stiles began to writhe and thrust into the air, suddenly desperate to come.

"Derek," he panted, so dizzy from the arousal that had come out of nowhere. "I need...I need..."

A clawless hand wrapped around his dick, jerked it hard and fast and Stiles almost cried in relief as every muscles tightened, every inch of him ached with need, and then he came, spilling over the hand, the sheets, his own quivering stomach. As he began to come down from the intense pleasure, tears prickled his closed eyes, because...was this his own pleasure, or a remnant of Derek's?

"Stiles," Derek murmured, licking the puncture wounds in the nape of his neck, cleaning away the sticky blood that Stiles felt oozing from them. "Mate." There was a tiny bit of satisfaction in that low, almost purr, and the hand on his cock stopped, moving back up to wrap around him and turn him onto his side. Derek rolled with him and, as he did, his softened cock pulled free with a wet trickle of cum and lube and, Stiles really prayed, hopefully not blood. He was really sore, but nothing stung like he had torn.

"You didn't tear."

"Can you read my mind?" he gasped, flailing, eyes flying open to stare over his shoulder at Derek.

"No," Derek huffed in what couldn't possibly be amusement as he spooned against his back. "You've been babbling under your breath for a couple of minutes. And, yes, I know you're lying in the wet spot."

Stiles' cheeks burned in embarrassment and, turning his eyes forward again, he snapped his lips shut. Which lasted about thirty seconds. "You need a bigger mattress because this twin is not made for two men and a wet spot," he grouched.

Behind him, Derek shook, and was that...? "Are you laughing?"

"Fuck if I know, Stiles. Your emotions are so strong, with the bond so new, I can almost feel them. You're...how can any part of you be happy?" He actually sounded confused.

"It's not a game," Stiles tried to explain his own confused emotions that made him want to curl back into Derek and wanted to make this relationship real and good and wanted to sneer in the faces of the Alpha Pack all at the same time. "I know that, Derek, but I'm too stubborn to be miserable. I won't let us be miserable because they've won everything, but they can't make us hate this. You can't let them..."

"Win. Yeah, I get it. I...can try." With a soft sigh, the Alpha placed a gentle, tender, maybe even loving kiss over the bond mark, and Stiles, his mate, shivered in pleasure.

Then cold. "Blankets, now."

"Bossy."

Stiles grinned as Derek pulled the blankets over them and tucked them around Stiles' front. Okay, he could live with the wet spot, because his mate was holding him, the wolf growling softly in contentment even if his human side didn't realize it.

And, he'd gotten that endorphin rich orgasm which muted the pain in his neck and his ass, and that really helped.

Although he was going to be one big, limping ache in the morning, he was well and truly fucked. The Alphas, especially that bitch Kali and fuckhead Ethan, could just suck on that.

End Chapter 4


	6. The Anomoly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at the same time as the bonding of Stiles and Derek in the last chapter, Lydia and Peter now face their own bonding and neither are looking forward to it. But, first, Lydia has a lot of questions and she finally pushes aside the fear enough to ask Peter for the answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters two days in a row! Go me! Surprisingly this isn't as dark and nasty as I'd thought it would be. Lydia's a lot stronger than I'd thought and Peter's surprisingly broken in ways I hadn't planned. Still, NC17 for unhappy het sex.

Peter started to take her arm in his hand and Lydia linked their arms instead. He seemed startled, but she was living on adrenaline for the moment, and determined not to show fear to anyone. As they walked together to his car at the back of the house, she cradled her other arm across her stomach. The handkerchief he'd given her was already dotted with blood from the throbbing wound on her inner wrist.

It would probably soak through to her dress but she no longer cared about things like that.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd ruined one of her outfits with her own blood. 

Lydia was actually proud of herself for letting him touch her without panicking. She knew he didn't need to touch her to lead her to the car, but she also understood the need of the wolf to touch its mate.

After finally turning, in that first heady month before the Alphas descended and he showed just how weak and broken he still was, Jackson had barely kept his hands off her. They'd never taken the steps to mating and Lydia made sure he never bit her anywhere by accident because she wasn't going to be trapped like Allison, even if she did love Jackson with all her young heart.

Well, she had loved him. The last four months since his betrayal her heart had pretty much died, leaving her feeling numb most of the time. 

Until Peter looked at her or asked her something and then she'd feel cold dread and hot fear. He'd never touched her, though, not once in all that time, not until tonight.

And now his hand was brushing her arm and his warmth was beside her and his teeth had been in her skin.

It had been different, though, then that first horrible time when he'd savaged her side and clawed her back and shoulder. The two little punctures were different.

And Peter wasn't insane.

Lydia wasn't sure that made any of this better.

The car warmed quickly, classic rock played softly on the stereo. They didn't speak as they drove across the mostly deserted town. There was a six o'clock curfew, though she guessed it didn't apply to them.

To wolves and whatever she was.

Mate, her traitorous mind reminded her, and she frowned and rubbed the skin above the makeshift bandage. The pain was fading, but Stiles had told her there would be more coming. More blood as well.

And sex with a man she was scared of.

Lydia hadn't had sex in over four months. She'd hardly even touched herself since the first attack on December first. How long had it been for Peter? Had he been with anyone since recovering from the fire and then his resurrection? 

Werewolves mated for life. He'd had a mate. Did he still...love her?

Not that Lydia cared, because love would never be a part of this relationship, but if he was still pining over a lost love, maybe he'd mostly leave her alone.

If he was allowed to. She hadn't had any say in this treaty. The rules they'd live under were mostly unknown to her. She hated being out of the loop, and she was annoyed at herself for not reading up on mating and claiming and this bond that was going to form and all it would entail.

She had a lot of questions, but she wasn't sure she wanted to ask Peter any of them.

Before she knew it he was parking the car in a private garage attached to a small apartment complex. Recognizing the part of town--upper middle class mostly, young people with careers and few to no kids, what used to be called Yuppies--she approved. She knew he had money which was good because she wasn't spending another night in any kind of hovel.

For a moment she felt a pang of concern for Stiles. Over the last couple of months he'd become pretty much her best friend, her gay confident--though he protested that he wasn't gay and then spent most of his days drooling over Derek and letting her buy him clothes that actually fit--and she wasn't convinced that Derek could even return any of his feelings, be a decent person to him, or even want him. She thought she'd been a cold bitch. Derek Hale had her beat easily.

Peter turned off the car and she waited for him to exit and then open her door. He had manners, at least. Following him into the locked building and up a set of stairs, she approved of the simple elegance, the fresh paint on the walls. The common areas were well maintained. She assumed that Peter's apartment was as well. The man did keep his car and his clothes pristine.

As he unlocked one of two doors on the second floor, which indicated large apartments, she appreciated that he stepped aside and let her enter first, while he turned on the lights at the switch just inside. There was a good sized main room, decorated in blues and greens, with modern, comfortable furniture. A large flat screen tv hung on one wall, the others bore abstract paintings that, at one glance, she could tell were originals. On one side was the opening to a kitchen with chrome appliances, and a small dining room in an alcove. The other side had a hallway that she assumed led to the bedrooms. Her eyes quickly left that side.

"Are you hungry?"

Lunch had been hours before and half a peanut butter sandwich on stale bread but the last thing she wanted to do was eat, so she shook her head.

"Let me find a proper bandage for that wound."

As he disappeared down the hallway she was avoiding looking at or thinking about, Lydia walked farther into the apartment. Everything was very tidy, but there were signs of personalization--well read magazines on the coffee table, a pair of cuff links on the bar separating this room from the kitchen, a novelty coffee mug of a wolf and the moon dirty in the sink, a jacket tossed on a stool.

Seating herself on a second stool at the bar, she carefully untied the handkerchief and frowned at the red holes in her wrist. One of them still oozed a bit of blood.

Peter returned and moved the jacket to sit next to her. Opening the first aid kit, he drew out alcohol swabs, gauze and tape, and when she held out her wrist, he efficiently cleaned the wounds and bandaged them.

"What about the bite on my neck?" she asked baldly because she did need to know in order to mentally prepare.

"It's a bit different. It sets the bond between us and my saliva will help stop the blood flow."

"I should wear my hair up."

"Yes."

So damn clinical about everything. 

Staring down at the counter top, Lydia listened to him replacing the items in the kit, then rise to wash his hands and dispose of the used supplies beneath the sink. She supposed they should get this over with, but he didn't seem in a hurry either, and there was one big question that had been at the forefront of her mind since Stiles had explained what was going to happen.

"The bond, it's supernatural?" Slowly she looked up and saw him in the kitchen drying his hands and watching her from widening eyes. He caught her implication, but she asked anyway, "Will it even work on me?"

"I...don't know."

"Does it usually work with humans? I mean, is Stiles going to feel it on his end, the bond with Derek? What does it do, feel like? How will I know?"

Peter actually looked shaken and he crossed the kitchen to stand across the bar from her, hands spread across the granite top, fingers clenching just slightly. "You just know. It's a connection...It's hard to explain. It should be an emotional connection. Wolves can feel their mates presence, their location, even what they're feeling if the emotions are deep and the wolf seeks them out. I think it's muted somewhat for humans, but still there."

"Even if there's no...caring?"

"Yes. It's not about that. Doesn't have to be," he corrected. "It's for protection, possession and..." He bit off his reply and she gave him a sharp look.

"What?"

"What do you think mating means, Lydia?" His voice was less confused now, colder, and she frowned. "Mated pairs have a much better chance of breeding strong wolves."

Lydia could feel herself blanching. She hadn't thought...that far ahead.

"I'm sixteen."

"They don't care."

Their eyes met and held for a long moment, then she dragged hers away and shook her head wildly. "No. I'm sixteen and I'm not giving you children, not now."

"It's part of the treaty." There was nothing in his voice now, no emotion, just cold recitation. "We're not allowed to use birth control and Derek and Stiles aren't allowed to use surrogates. No cubs for them, and the only chance of a born Hale Alpha is through us."

"No."

Ignoring her, Peter continued, "But we don't know what your immunity will do, if you can even get pregnant from me, or, if you can, if the cubs will be human or wolves. Even two born werewolves can birth a human, so that's never a guarantee anyway. You're our only chance, though, Lydia. I'm not prepared to let the Hale bloodline die with Derek."

"You bastard!"

He flushed and leaned forward and she automatically leaned back, nearly falling off the stool. "Do you really think I want this? I was prepared to seek a mate in order to carry on our bloodline. I was prepared to make Derek see past Stiles and find a born she-wolf to claim. We need wolves of the blood. It's the only way we'll get a strong Alpha to follow him. But, you're the last woman I'd choose because you despise and fear me. This is our punishment. Derek can't have a cub of his own to inherit from him. I can only get them on a child who shrinks from me, who will never love me."

Lydia nearly yelled back that she wasn't a child, but held her tongue and her temper, since doing that would just prove his point. But, angry though she was, her mind was clear and coming up with possibilities, probabilities. "Do you think the Alphas took my immunity into consideration? Do they know something we don't? That I won't get pregnant?"

"I doubt it. Oh, they might have thought of it, but they don't know any more than we do. And they obviously don't see any cubs we might have as potential threats, not even a potential Alpha. If they did, they would have forced sterilization on you."

Lydia felt sick at the thought. No, she didn't want to be pregnant now, didn't want to ever have Peter's child, but having that choice taken from her...

Unwilling to think about that anymore, she switched gears. "What if the bond doesn't do anything on my end?"

He shrugged. "I don't think that matters since we're not doing it out of love or need of any kind. The human bond mate isn't tied forever to their wolf, it's more symbolic. They can leave. They can be unfaithful. It's the main reason we rarely bond with humans that we're not going to have turned. The bonding is for wolves for life. It's to be taken seriously. Some go without mates forever, but, even those who don't can still marry and have cubs. It goes against our wolf's nature not to bond, but we can fight it without too much problem. I've never seen the point. If you're going to make a serious commitment to another, you go all the way. And for an Alpha, it's a must, for the future generation. Unmated pairs can't produce a potential Alpha, and for a male Alpha to take a male mate is unheard of for that very reason." He shook his head in obvious concern.

Feeling it, too, worried about Stiles, Lydia still had to get confirmation. "So, until I die, I'm it for you?"

"I don't see any reason the bond won't settle on my end," he replied shortly.

Slumping a bit, Lydia nibbled on her lower lip, and realized this was the longest conversation she'd had with Peter since he'd been in her head. She was kind of amazed she was holding it together so well. "You said it was for breeding and protection, but it's usually for love, too, right?"

"In these modern times, yes." His face took on a distant look and she knew he was thinking about his late wife.

She let him be for a moment, but she had to get further clarification. "So it's not a 'one mate in the whole world' soul mate thing. It's not an urge to find that one person."

"No, it can be anyone. Obviously, or we wouldn't be here." Peter glanced at his watch. "And we have about eight hours until we need to head back to the house, so I suggest we stop putting this off."

A chill went through Lydia, but, steeling herself, she nodded and slipped from the stool.

"The master bedroom is the last door on the right. I'll give you...fifteen minutes?" At her small nod, he continued, "There should be something in the bathroom you can use to tie up your hair. There's also a tube of lubricant in the night stand on the right."

Now she was flushing and her eyes dropped to her feet. Women her age shouldn't need lubricant. Did he mention it to her out of respect for her? Or did he simply desire to touch her as little as necessary?

Unable to reply, she turned and forced herself to walk down the hallway to the open door at the end.

The bedroom was good sized and well decorated. The furniture was cherry wood, the bedding navy and cream. The walls bore more art, this time prints--she recognized a couple popular portraits of redheads in fanciful Renaissance dress and she paled at how closely she resembled one of the models. Turning away she opened the door to the bathroom and stepped into a well-appointed room in cream porcelain. The counter had masculine products and accouterments, but a drawer yielded a sealed toothbrush which she opened and used. Running her fingers through her hair, she opened another drawer and searched, finally finding an unused shoelace. It would do. Gathering as much of her hair as she could, she tied it high a top her head, then gave herself a critical look in the mirror.

She hadn't thought to bring anything with her, none of her own toiletries or a change of clothes. Not wanting to think about any of this had left her unprepared, something she despised. Glancing at the soap she realized it was Dove, and it would do. 

A few minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, face scrubbed clean, wearing only a pale green silk camisole and matching pair of tap pants. If he wanted her naked, he'd have to make her that way. She couldn't do that, and...she wasn't sure she could do this either, but, taking a deep breath, she opened the drawer of the night stand on the right side of the bed, the one that held a couple novels and a half-empty water bottle.

The tube of KY was on top of whatever else was in the drawer. All Lydia could see was it.

Slowly she sat on the bed and stared at her lap.

Did this mean Peter wasn't going to give her any foreplay, prepare her at all? Or did he think he couldn't arouse her or that she wouldn't let him, so she'd need the lube?

Either was a horrible thought, and, to be honest with herself, she wasn't sure she wanted him to try to make it good, to arouse her. And maybe he couldn't. Maybe, with him, she'd be frigid, so scared that she couldn't let herself want him.

Or...maybe he just didn't care to even try. Maybe she meant so little to him,...

Hesitantly she took the tube in her hand and wondered if she had the guts to do this.

The door opened and Peter stepped inside, quietly closing it behind him before turning to face her. Lydia looked up at him, saw he was looking at what she held in her hand and she pointed it at him.

"Will I need this?" she boldly asked, surprising herself as she clamped down on the constant fear his presence elicited in her, and hid it behind bravado.

"That's up to you, Lydia," was his quiet reply, before he went into the bathroom and shut that door as well.

Flushing, Lydia put the lubricant back in the drawer, closing it firmly, then she rose and pulled down the bedspread, folding it neatly at the end of the bed, then removed the pillows with shams and piled them on a chair. Moving to the other side of the bed, she plumped the remaining pillow, then tugged down the thick quilt and sheet, noting the high thread count with approval. She sat on the firm mattress, then, taking a deep breath, swung her legs up and beneath the sheet and blanket before lying back.

The fear that she'd clamped down on and that had mostly been at a low level for the last half hour or so began to slip from her control, and her breathing increased. She could feel her heart beating quicker as well, and knew he'd know it, maybe already heard it. Before she could force herself to calm, Peter came out of the bathroom wearing only a pair of navy boxer briefs. She quickly looked away from and stared at the ceiling.

God, she felt like some kind of Victorian virgin!

She couldn't just lie here, let him do whatever he needed to do, make it so completely empty and meaningless.

And, yes, she was scared of him, yes, she even hated him for making her scared and weak and knowing just how to manipulate her, but she was Lydia Martin and she didn't cower and she wasn't passive. The last couple of hours had proved to her that she could be alone with Peter Hale and not have a complete mental breakdown. She could even talk to him.

Stiles words came back to her.

Be Lydia.

Before she could think to stop herself, her feet kicked the coverings down and she was sitting and tugging her camisole over her head, then shimmying out of her tap pants, tossing both on the floor. Fuck him. She was Lydia Martin and she was not weak and, while she was broken, she wouldn't shatter.

Bravely Lydia looked at him and saw his eyes not on her breasts or the red curls between her slightly parted legs, but focused on the ugly reddened scar on her left side, before they slid up to the obvious claw marks on her shoulder, one going down over her breast nearly to her nipple.

He'd done that to her, but he'd never looked at them before. 

"I'm not ashamed of them."

And, she wasn't, not anymore. Over the last several months she'd been too busy fighting and surviving to worry about scars she couldn't do anything about. They hadn't been her fault. She hadn't asked for them.

She hadn't asked for any of this.

Remaining seated, curling her legs up to one side, Lydia watched Peter place one knee on the bed, then fall gracefully forward onto his hands, putting his face at the level of her marked shoulder. One more move closer and his mouth brushed the scar.

He nuzzled at the claw mark on her breast, then sank lower and breathed against the raised brand of his fangs. The mark was huge--she now knew he'd bitten her in his Alpha form with that massive muzzle.

Smaller fangs scraped her skin now, and she shivered, but not from cold and not all from fear. 

"You would have made a magnificent wolf," he murmured against her quickly warming skin, "but we never would have had this, Lydia. An Alpha can't take one of his own Betas to mate. The power imbalance never works well." His nose and lips dipped lower across her stomach, which clenched in reaction, and then he took her down onto her back, coming over her and between her thighs. Their eyes met, his glowing golden, and Lydia swallowed hard.

She hadn't realized, but of course he'd have to shift at least partially in order to bite her during the sex. Those eyes and glint of fangs frightened her, but the eyes weren't red and the fangs weren't an inch long and dripping with saliva and those were the ones that petrified her.

"You didn't use the lube," he pointed out softly, his lips hovering over hers, his nostrils flaring. "Do you want me to touch you?"

"Do you want to touch me?" Lydia countered, forcing herself not to look away. Peter was the one to break eye contact and he stared at the pillow next to her head where one of his hands was braced.

"I...don't know," was his surprisingly honest reply. "Since my return, my encounters with women have been purely for sexual release and they've been faceless by the next day. This is different. This is, should be important." A quick glance at his face showed her how conflicted he looked and she lay still, waiting for him to continue, and, when he did, his voice broke. It actually broke. "It should be real."

In a flash, Peter was off her, off the bed, and back in the bathroom, and Lydia stared after him in frank surprise.

She hadn't realized...this was hard for him, too.

Sitting back up, she drew her knees to her chin and stared across the room and there she saw it. On the dresser were two framed photographs. One was a full size professional school portrait of a little blonde girl, maybe no more than seven or eight. Lydia had known he'd had at least one child but she'd never cared to know any details. Now she wondered what her name had been, how old she'd been when she...died. If she'd been a wolf. But, it was the other photograph that held her attention.

It was a wedding portrait. The bride and groom were both barefoot, wearing casual clothes, but they were smiling at each other, so obviously devoted to each other, and the sun shown down on their heads in their outdoor ceremony. Their left hands were clasped and held to the camera and on their fingers were matching gold bands.

Peter still wore his.

The woman was his wife, his...mate.

And now he was being forced to take another.

A pang of compassion hit her and Lydia nearly swore at it. She didn't want to feel anything for him. Yes, he was on their side completely, the Second of the Pack and Derek's family. She trusted that he wouldn't betray those bonds, but he was still the monster who had tried to turn her into a werewolf and then had turned her into his puppet, breaking her so badly she still had nightmares of purple flowers and blood and ice...and his leering, cruel face.

The clock on the night stand blinked over to the hour and time was moving too quickly. They had to do this or the Pack, her friends, maybe her mom would die and, to be frank, better the devil she knew than a strange wolf claiming her. Lydia truly believed that Peter wouldn't hurt her as long as she accepted him and didn't fight him. He had control of his wolf now. A stranger? Who knew what might happen. Most likely Deucalion would find the most perverted bastard of an Alpha to give her to that would keep her bruised, barefoot and pregnant.

She'd agreed to this, to Peter, for all of those reasons, and they were good reasons.

Taking a deep breath, Lydia stretched across the bed and took the lube from the drawer. As she lay back down, she opened it and squeezed some onto her fingers, then parted her legs and pushed the slick into herself. Peter didn't need to make this good for her. She didn't need to make it good for him.

They just had to get through it.

Wiping her fingers on a tissue, she tossed it and the closed tube onto the matching night stand on what she figured was her side of the bed, and rose to her feet to go fetch her mate.

The door to the bathroom wasn't locked and Lydia didn't knock. Peter was leaning against the counter, head down, arms locked across his chest. He didn't look up when she came in but she saw his nostrils flare again.

"We need to do this, Peter." It was the first time she'd said his name to him...ever.

At that, he looked up and, while still obviously conflicted, finally took her outstretched hand.

Lydia led him back to the bed, then turned to face him and slipped her fingers into the waistband of his briefs before tugging them down and urging him to step from them. When those same fingers wrapped around his soft cock, he cupped her shoulders in his hands and made her look up at him.

"You're older than your years," Peter murmured, his eyes still empty, but determination and acceptance on his face.

"I'm not a child. I'm really not." Expertly pumping her hand up and down his shaft, over the uncircumcised head, brushing back the foreskin with delicate fingers, was proving that.

Peter swallowed hard, then nodded and his whole body shuddered as the tension drained from him and, in her hand, his cock swelled. Backing a few steps to the bed, Lydia sank onto it and he followed her down, until they were on their sides, her hand still caressing, his both still holding her shoulders, though his thumbs were moving on her skin, the one on his right hand pressing lightly into the scars.

He didn't try to kiss her or touch her in any other way and that was okay with her. She didn't want that. She wasn't sure she ever would.

She wasn't sure he wanted that either.

When his cock grew slippery with pre-cum Lydia released him and turned onto her hands and knees, then lowered to her elbows and spread her legs. It wasn't a position she particularly liked, but he had to bite the nape of her neck during the sex, and this wasn't about pleasure anyway.

Still, she couldn't drive away the bit of fear that always seemed to grip her when she turned her back on Peter, or control the tremor that ran down her spine. When one of his hands touched her hip, when he moved between her legs and both hands found her, she bit back a whimper because she was scared again. Not that he would hurt her. And not the fear that was always there, but of the implications. Of what all this meant. Sex and a bite and the bond and...children. A life with this man. No, this wolf.

Sudden tears filled her eyes and she squeezed them shut, holding them in, and then Peter pushed into her and drove her breath from her.

It felt so strange--uncircumcised, no condom, wet with his pre-cum and the lube, and he was hot, no thin latex to shield her from that. His cock wasn't overly long but she'd discovered when he'd come erect in her hand that it was very thick and it was stretching her wider than even her favorite dildo. There was a glimmer of pain but mostly she felt full and open at the same time.

Shifting her left hand to brace herself as he began to move, which drove her body forward a bit, the claimed wrist pressed to the bedding and sent a shiver of pain through her and...something else.

Everything felt...unreal and yet so incredibly real at the same time, and Peter was thrusting quickly, small grunts echoing from him, his fingers digging into her hips. Lydia found herself moving automatically with him and it wasn't to seek her own orgasm or hurry him to his, it was...natural.

Real.

It was over sooner than she expected--a sharper stutter of his hips, a curse bitten off his lips, and he was coming and coming down over her back. Before she could prepare herself, his fangs slid effortlessly into the thin skin at the nape of her neck.

The flash of brilliant pain made Lydia whimper than cry out. Her head dipped even farther in instinctual submission and his fangs held her there, held her down as his hips pumped his semen into her in a need as old as time--a need to extend the bloodline through a child of his mate.

And with a sharp, hard cry, Lydia came as well. Without a touch to her clit or breasts, and no kissing, only his cock and hot cum in her, his fangs claiming her, his body pressed against hers, she had the most powerful orgasm of her life.

They fell together, panting harshly, and as she trembled and tried to catch her breath, she felt his fangs retreat, replaced by his tongue, and he was cleaning away the blood, soothing her wounds, just as he'd said.

As Peter softened inside her, she felt the ache between her legs of both pain and pleasure, and tried to figure out how he'd made her come.

"The bond," he murmured against her nape. "I can feel it." There was a mournful quality to his voice that set her slightly on edge and she searched inside herself and...found nothing.

"I can't," Lydia forced herself to say, knowing that wasn't what he wanted to hear, and she wasn't surprised when he pulled out of her and moved to sit on the side of the bed, feet on the floor and hands rubbing against his face.

"So, you're immunity prevents this as well," he finally sighed in resignation.

Turning onto her side and making a face at the wetness coating her inner thighs, she stared at his trembling back and was a bit amazed that she'd caused that kind of reaction in him. Or maybe sex just left him shaking.

"We don't know...It doesn't mean I won't, can't have your..." She couldn't say it, dropping her eyes to her flat stomach before sadly whispering, "I'm not on the pill. It makes me sick."

"I know." Of course, he would smell medication, even hormone adjustment pills on her like Derek could smell the Adderall on Stiles.

"Could I be pregnant now?"

She caught the shake of his head before she pressed one hand to her stomach and rolled onto her back. "You're not in season. Not fertile," he added the human terminology.

"I'm your mate now? Your wolf can feel it?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

Peter snorted, seeming to come back to himself finally, and he glanced over his shoulder. "Darling Lydia, none of this is your fault. I made you immune, the bastard Alphas made you my mate, but you're not broken."

"I'm broken as much as you are, Peter," Lydia corrected him, "but I won't show that to the Alpha Pack."

"A united front?"

"Yes." She nodded and reached down for the sheet and blanket. 

"I can sleep in the guest room," he hesitantly offered.

"Don't be stupid." Most of the fear was fading to the background again. Bitterness was replacing it and her words were sharper than they probably should have been, but Peter only nodded and slid into the bed next to her, not touching her on the queen sized mattress. Reaching over, he turned off the lamp on his night stand, and Lydia rolled onto her side facing away from him.

Now that it was quiet and she could think again without worrying about what was coming, she was a bit amazed she'd survived without breaking down into a heap of terror filled flesh and bones.

Stiles was right. She was strong.

She was Lydia.

Still, she waited until Peter was definitely asleep before she allowed herself that rest as well. Mate, yes, but still not completely trusted.

And she was still a little scared of him. 

She didn't think she'd ever not be.

End Chapter 5


	7. The Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek doesn't sleep. He awaits the coming dawn and his mate's awakening and all they will face. The Alpha Pack will come and the treaty will be signed, signaling an end to their world and the beginning of something he knows he can't face. A mate he wants with all his being. A mate he won't let himself have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter I've been writing for several days, from Derek's POV and he just kept moping and growling...

Derek didn't sleep. Because his body was exhausted, he dozed a bit, but he was too tense to let himself relax.

In his arms, Stiles slept like the dead. Derek envied him for that, for his apparent acceptance of all of this, his lack of the guilt that ate at Derek every waking minute.

In a bizarre way, Stiles was still innocent.

As the old year turned to the new, Derek mourned that innocence because it was lost even if the boy didn't know it. His virginity was just the tip of the iceberg. He knew Stiles hadn't thought through all the implications of their mating and he admitted he hadn't helped at all. Too bitter. Too afraid to talk to him.

Too trapped in memories of his own past, of his first time, of the dreams he'd had with _her_ , becoming _her_ mate. He was afraid Stiles held those same dreams about him and now, in the worst way possible, they were coming true.

Opening his eyes, Derek watched in the dim light of the guttering candle how Stiles' chest rose and fell evenly, slowly. How his skin glistened with dried sweat and Derek's saliva. How the mark on his neck, raised and red, wasn't the ugly thing he'd feared it would be--how could it be anything else, forced on them?

But, it was...almost beautiful. It enticed him, made his wolf growl deeply in satisfaction.

Mate.

This was his mate, however it had happened, however young he was.

Derek's wolf was content.

He just wished he could let his human side feel that way.

*****

Waking Stiles a half hour before dawn was a chore. The boy did not want to stir, batted at his hands, grumbled at him, and finally pried open his eyes enough to glower at him.

Derek ignored him and rose naked from the mattress to dress in the clothes from the night before. Not surprisingly, he could feel Stiles' eyes on him.

He was a bit disconcerted by the flare of arousal he scented--he had to be sore, couldn't really want that again so soon. But, then he remembered that his mate was sixteen and often running on a low level of arousal.

Derek nearly stumbled when Stiles knelt down beside him to dig through his bag for clothes, completely nude and, to his surprise, completely unconcerned. He'd have expected shyness. But, then, really, when had Stiles ever been shy? 

Trying desperately not to see the bruises scattered across Stiles' pale skin, he headed for the crate of clothes to look for clean socks.

"It's fucking freezing in here, Derek. We're going to talk about that after we deal with this Alpha bullshit. And, God, I wish I could shower. Even I can smell how much I reek and I'm all flaky. Cum, blood, sweat. Sheesh." As he babbled and grunted, he jerked on jeans and a sweatshirt, then took socks and his sneakers over to the mattress to sit.

When he did so, Derek saw him wince, and felt himself grow momentarily flustered.

He'd done that.

His wolf barked in possessive delight, and he scowled.

"Such a pleasant face to wake up to."

At least Stiles' sarcasm was still intact.

Choosing not to respond, Derek crossed the hall to the bathroom to run a comb through his hair and brush his teeth. Not about to risk anything, he'd shower after this meeting, but he felt like Stiles was infused into his skin. The scent of his mate was both strong and enticing. It was too pleasant.

Stiles thought he reeked, but he didn't. He smelled like Derek's and with a scent that was tantalizing familiar.

Home, hearth, family--similar to what he remembered of the scent of his mated parents.

Already he and Stiles smelled like all of that and, yet, they couldn't really be what they should be.

Hands propped on the counter, he stared into the mirror, eyes glowing red so he could see every emotion so clear on his face.

The most prominent was failure.

But, then this was nothing new. He'd been a failure for nearly seven years.

When Derek returned to his bedroom, it was empty, and he followed Stiles' scent--alluring, really too damn alluring, that made him just want to grab his mate and bend him over the nearest flat surface--down the stairs to the other bathroom. The one the two humans had been using. The one with a lamp.

As he waited outside for Stiles to finish, he wondered if he realized this was his home now. Mates didn't live apart and the Alpha Pack certainly wasn't going to allow it. In their eyes, in his wolf's eyes, Stiles was an adult, but they were breaking human laws that meant something to Derek.

And breaking custom in his own Pack. Mates hadn't been taken so young in two centuries. It had been understood amongst allied packs that Hale wolves weren't available for bondings until they were at least eighteen and out of school.

But, the Alpha Pack were the most traditional of traditionalists and they were dragging the world backwards.

The bathroom door opened and Stiles stepped out, nearly tripping into Derek. "You need electricity in more than just the kitchen with that tiny generator," he said sourly.

Yeah, he supposed he did. And heat. It was barely winter and already dipping near freezing at night. His mate was human, could feel it too easily, could get sick from the chill and damp.

The opening of the front door drew his attention away from Stiles and he headed there, knowing he'd be followed. Peter and Lydia walked in, her leading the way as he opened the door for her. Surprisingly, she looked okay. Actually, better than she had in weeks. As Stiles greeted her and she handed him some batteries to replace the burnt out ones in the lanterns, Derek waited for his uncle to approach him, which didn't take long.

They both discreetly scented each other.

"So, we've passed their first test."

Derek grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Stiles looks...his usual self."

Appreciating the carefulness, but annoyed by his uncle's need to comment about this at all, he retorted, "And Lydia survived, too."

Peter frowned and Derek immediately regretted his tone, but he couldn't apologize. Instead his nostrils flared and a surprising scent hit him.

"She...enjoyed...?"

Reddening slightly, Peter shrugged. "Something to do with the bond, I guess, except..." He glanced over his shoulder at his petite mate who was listening to Stiles babble as they reset the lanterns and illuminated the dark room. "It didn't set on her end."

Derek could feel himself paling. "Her immunity?"

"I assume." Peter huffed a sigh. "I can feel it. She says she can't. She wasn't lying, but it was a very confusing night. Thankfully the language in the treaty refers to completing the bonding and not the bond. Technically the bond didn't complete and we could have been held in violation, but the bonding refers to the physicality of the bite and the sex."

"Did you write it that way?

"Actually, Kali did, and now I'm wondering why. I didn't think about Lydia's immunity interfering until she brought it up last night.

"She actually talked to you? Willingly?"

"She is...full of surprises." Turning his head, Peter watched his mate, drawing Derek's eyes to the human pair as well. "Bolder than I expected."

Not knowing how to respond to that, Derek kept his mouth shut and in the silence came a howl from outside. He saw Stiles stiffen and Lydia pale, then they set down the lanterns in their hands and went to their respective mates. Stiles firmly took Derek's hand. Lydia looked up at Peter, her face unreadable, but her scent tinged with fear.

Peter carefully took her hand and lifted it to his lips and she allowed it and it calmed her. Beside him, Stiles stiffened even more in shock, then a little smile of pride in his friend crossed his face, before he wiped it away.

"Let's get this over with."

Nodding at his mate, Derek led the way outside.

The sun was just breaking the horizon, pinkening the sky. The five Alphas were back, alone this time. Aiden unfolded a portable table and two chairs, one across from the other, and Kali set two folders and pens on the table, along with a cloth grocery bag.

"There are these things called tablets these days."

"Oh look, the little pet speaks," Ethan sneered.

"Nothing has ever silenced my mate," Derek said, stressing the title as he approached the chair closest to the house and watched as Deucalion took the opposite and sat first.

Releasing Stiles' hand in order to sit, he was pleased to see him remain at his side, equally. The leader of the Alphas didn't have that. Both Kali and Ethan were a step back, as were Peter and Lydia on his right side. Briefly he wondered why Deucalion had never taken a mate. A mate strengthened an Alpha and the Pack. Even a human one.

Even a male human one for a male Alpha.

With his Second and his mate with him, the pack bond settled peacefully in him. He knew Stiles could feel it a bit, but he regretted that Lydia couldn't.

Deucalion was the first to speak. "Our Seconds have hashed out all the details of the treaty. The two of you have bonded with your mates to fulfill our first requirement, which allows you all to live." He tapped his folder and flipped it open, but didn't bother looking down.

Derek didn't open his and didn't look away from the Alpha sitting across from him. He wasn't about to show any weakness, but he really wished he'd gotten more details from Peter. Too busy being angry and frustrated at the coming mating.

Reaching down, Peter picked up the second folder and opened it. "Let me just read through this. Make sure we got everything down the way we agreed."

His doing so saved face, left Derek to remain calm and collected. He wouldn't know the details of what he was signing but he trusted his uncle--a thought that was amazing in itself. Peter would have fought for the best deal he could get.

And, really, a few things were obvious. 

Derek and Stiles physically couldn't have cubs of their own and not being allowed them through surrogacy would be further punishment, so that was probably in there. Peter, though...He had been surprised by Lydia--she bore no acrid scent of birth control pills and no residual latex aroma either.

But, then, maybe the Alpha Pack figured her immunity wouldn't allow for a pregnancy. Either way, they'd be punished. No continuation of the Hale bloodline at all, or a Second's mate forced too young to bear unwanted cubs.

"We didn't agree to forcing the human families of the Hale Pack members to remain prisoners." Peter reached for the pen. "There's no reason. There are restrictions on anyone leaving town that have nothing to do with our treaty. That covers them as well. And we all know they're hostages to our good behavior. That clause gets removed."

Kali growled but Deucalion simply nodded and Peter observed as he crossed out the clause, then did the same in his own document before going back to reading it.

Derek noticed that the document was only two pages, fairly short, and he hoped that the clauses that did exist, the rules that bound them now, were things he could live with.

He really wished he'd talked to Peter.

"All right, everything else is as agreed to." The document was placed back in front of Derek, turned to the signature page, and he watched as the Alpha picked up a pen and casually signed his own, then waited for Derek to sign so they could exchange folders.

Gritting his teeth, Derek signed the first set, then the second, and it was done.

"You're no longer prisoners here, so we're giving you back your cell phones." Kali pointed to the bag which Stiles snatched up and began to go through, stuffing two phones into his pockets before passing the bag to Peter. I'll be staying in your charming town for a while to make sure you keep to the treaty," she cooed, rolling up one treaty and handing it to the quietest Alpha, Cora, who tucked it into her shoulder bag. Derek handed his copy to Stiles as he knew he was itching to read it.

So was he.

Rising at the same time, he and Deucalion simply nodded at each other and the Alphas turned their backs without a care, heading for the woods. As they reached them, Ethan turned back for a moment and leered at Stiles.

"Too bad Hale got it up, Stiles. I was looking forward to you bent over my bed and taking my dick for the rest of your miserable life."

A growl burst from Derek but Stiles stepped in front of him, boldly replying, "Yeah, that would have been difficult since the first chance I got, I'd bite your dick down to a stub. Well, it's already kind of stubby."

Behind him Peter snorted, but when Ethan turned red and started back towards them, Derek shifted and grabbed his mate to yank him away.

But, Aiden took his brother's arm and jerked him into the trees.

"Are you insane?" Derek hissed as soon as he was sure they were out of hearing range.

"I have a mouth. I'm pretty sure you know this."

Stiles was annoyed with him? After risking his life mouthing off to that son of a bitch? Releasing him, Derek gave him a shove towards the house. "Get inside. I want to know what I just agreed to."

"Stop manhandling me."

Derek grabbed his arm again and jerked him towards the steps. "It was my place to respond, not yours."

He shouldn't have been surprised when Stiles went stone cold and still, then furiously pulled free. "You don't own me, Derek."

"Yes, I do," he bit back, then stormed up the steps into the house. Behind him he could hear Stiles squawking, Peter trying to soothe him, and Lydia...

Nothing from Lydia, which did surprise him, because she'd become Stiles' biggest defender. As he sank down onto the couch and rubbed his hands over his tired eyes, trying to calm himself down, she walked quietly into the room and sat on a chair next to him, holding the treaty folder open.

"Peter told me a little bit last night. I can only assume that they worry so little about us that letting me birth a possible Alpha doesn't matter."

He leaned forward slightly and she cocked an eyebrow at him. "You don't know what's in this, do you." He must have given her a sour look, because she snorted, too similarly to his uncle, then read a couple clauses out loud. "'Derek Hale and Gwalltafwyn Stilinski...'" What the Hell? "Yes, that's his real name. Anyway, 'shall mate before the sun rises on the first day of the new year, two thousand and fourteen. If either refuses or fails to complete the bonding, the Hale Pack will be executed and Gwalltafwyn Stilinski will be taken as prisoner of the Alpha Pack to dispose of at their will. Derek Hale is not allowed to carry on the Hale bloodline and Gwalltafwyn Stilinski is not allowed to produce children or cubs through surrogacy or any other manner.'"

They didn't want the magic to continue, either. Derek felt his heart sink.

Lydia continued, her voice even and cool, "'Peter Hale and Lydia Martin shall mate before the sun rises on the first day of the new year, two thousand and fourteen. If either refuses or fails to complete the bonding, the Hale Pack will be executed and Lydia Martin will be taken as prisoner of the Alpha Pack to dispose of at their will. Peter Hale and Lydia Martin will be allowed no form of birth control and if a cub, wolf or human, is not conceived within two years, the Alpha Pack...'" Her voice broke and she looked up from shocked eyes. "Peter didn't tell me that. He didn't tell me there could be consequences if I don't get pregnant. We don't even know if I can."

"Lydia, calm down," Derek said softly. "What are the consequences?"

"Just that...that the Alpha Pack may choose to intercede."

Peter had entered the house in time to hear that last exchange and he sighed heavily. "I hoped you wouldn't read that part."

"Why is this so vague?" she demanded, waving the treaty at him.

"I fought to make that part clearer but they wouldn't agree. It was hard enough to get them to agree to let you live."

"But they could still kill me. That's what this says. Intercede." She was starting to panic and then Stiles was pushing past Peter and going to her side, taking the document and handing it to the older man, before crouching before her and taking her hands.

"Hey, hey, Lyds, it's okay. We won't let them hurt you, Lyds, promise. You'll get pregnant. You're Lydia Martin, remember? Queen of Beacon Hills High."

"I hate when you call me that," she muttered.

"What, Lyds or Queen?"

"Both."

He grinned and slowly she relaxed.

Derek held out his hand to his uncle, who turned over the document. 

"I think coffee is in order."

"God yes," Stiles chimed in, pulling Lydia up and following Peter into the kitchen.

Leaning forward, hunching over the folder in his hands, Derek started to read.

Nothing really surprising. He wasn't allowed to turn anyone for five years and then only with permission. Certain people--Stiles, John Stilinski, Melissa, Deaton, the Argents--and did that mean they were going to live after all?--were never to be turned. Outside of the proscriptions to he and Stiles, cubs of the Pack were allowed and, if human, could be turned at the traditional age of sixteen or any time afterwards without further permission from the Alpha Pack.

No member of the Hale Pack was allowed to leave Beacon County without permission. Derek was pretty sure that would never be granted unless, possibly, for a mating into a pack allied to the Alphas. There was no mention of this applying to any of the family members, but there were new rules for all residents of the county that would apply to them. He assumed no one was allowed to leave without permission.

He was glad Peter had insisted on scratching out the part about imprisoning their families. They were trapped easily enough within the borders of the county. If his father had remained a prisoner, Stiles would have gone ballistic.

Which reminded him that he probably should go talk to the man.

He wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

Other parts of the treaty were pretty standard--at least one member of the Alpha Pack would remain in Beacon Hills until they deemed the Hale Pack a non-threat and capable of managing their affairs. Members of the Hale Pack could interact with the community, get jobs, go to school, basically live life how they wanted as long as it was in Beacon County or they could get permission to leave.

That meant the only option for higher education was the two year community college. 

Neither Lydia nor Stiles were going to be happy about that.

But the hardest to deal with was the fact they wouldn't allow him to continue the bloodline. He'd expected it, and, werewolf surrogacy was an iffy prospect anyway, but it was a blatant slap in the face at his family. If Lydia could get pregnant and if she could birth wolves or human children with the werewolf gene, the line would continue through Peter, and hopefully produce a potential Alpha, but his own biological imperative to produce an heir was permanently blocked.

Despite its need for Stiles, a man, who wouldn't have been able to carry the line anyway, his wolf hated it.

If the Alpha Pack hadn't descended, if the supernatural hadn't taken over the world, Derek held to a dim hope that he could have put aside his attraction to Stiles and taken a female mate. To do his duty as his parents and his Pack would have expected. To give them strong cubs and at least one potential Alpha.

There was no hope for that now. Staring at the most telling clause, Derek cursed under his breath.

If Stiles died before Derek, he was not allowed to ever take another mate.

He knew it was hard to do, very hard. His surprise--and relief--at the fact that Peter and Lydia had accomplished the mating was as much due to his knowledge of Peter's deep love and devotion to his late wife, Marta, as Lydia's fear of him. Maybe Peter could have forced himself to find a new mate in order to have cubs of the blood, but Derek wasn't convinced. He'd had two great-aunts who'd lost their mates when they were young enough to still have cubs and neither had ever taken a second mate, both living long lives alone.

As he set aside the treaty, a noise drew his attention to the entry to the kitchen. Stiles hesitated there, two mugs in his hands.

"So, are we screwed?"

Derek could see the nervousness in him as he licked his lower lip and his eyes wouldn't land on Derek.

"It's not...horrible."

Crossing the room, Stiles handed him one of the mugs, then retreated to the chair Lydia had been in earlier, which put him at an angle to Derek and allowed him to avoid eye contact.

"Lydia said they're pretty much making her have kids. Why? They could be wolves, right?"

"Either the Alphas believe her immunity will prevent that or pregnancy altogether, or they just don't see us as a threat any longer." Derek shrugged and sipped his black coffee, knowing Stiles' mug was liberally dosed with creamer and sugar. "My guess is they don't expect her to produce a potential Alpha with Peter, though any born and mated wolf can do so, even if the mate is human."

"But, you don't have to be a born wolf to even be an Alpha. Aidan told me that Ethan was born human, bitten when he was barely a teenager, and then became an Alpha through killing someone."

Peter and Lydia returned carrying their own mugs and as they sat on the ratty loveseat, Derek nodded to his uncle to explain because he wanted to watch Stiles. He wanted, needed, to see his reaction when he finally realized the truth.

"You're right, any werewolf can become an Alpha through killing an Alpha, but do you really think that's the optimum way to do it? Why do you think there are so many stories about werewolf violence, rampages, mass murders? Why do you think there are hunters?"

Lydia was the one to come up with the reason first. "Because they weren't meant to be Alphas. Last night you mentioned potential Alphas and I didn't ask what that meant."

"The strongest werewolves and the most sane if they become an Alpha, are those born as wolves with the potential to become an Alpha. The most stable and peaceful packs are those led by born Alphas. In a perfect world, a mated Alpha will give birth to or sire the next Alpha and it will pass when they die and that death is usually not at the hands of their child. That happened in the Hale Pack for generations until..." He stuttered to a stop and quickly took a sip of coffee, unable to look at Derek, and Derek fought the instinct to growl. "Originally only a mated Alpha could produce a potential, but over the centuries born Beta wolves in mated relationships began to have that ability. As far as I know, a bitten wolf has never been able to, even if they're mated, even if they've become Alpha. So, packs led by bitten Alphas have degenerated over the years. Become feral and out of control. Thus, the need for hunters."

"So, were you a potential? Can there be more than one?" Stiles asked.

"There can be, but, no, I wasn't. My insanity came from many reasons, including that," he said ruefully, then finally looked at Derek. "But Derek was. My sister had two potentials. Even though he became Alpha through killing, that doesn't destabilize this Pack or his position."

"Okay, good. So, if Erika and Boyd finalize the mating bond and have kids, for example, they could be werewolves but not Alphas unless they kill an Alpha and that would be bad."

"Correct."

Stiles nodded to himself, then Derek saw him glancing over at him and blinking. "But I can't have children." A flicker of panic crossed his expressive face. "Can Derek use a surrogate, even if that won't give us an Alpha?"

Watching his uncle's face close, Derek shook his head and took over the narrative. "No. They've forbidden it. My genes die with me. The only way the Hale bloodline carries on at all is through Peter."

"And Lydia may not be able to have kids with him because of her immunity, which means we could really be screwed. Derek, I'm so sorry."

"This isn't your fault," he gruffly replied, looking back at his uncle who was looking at his mate who was staring at her feet. What a complete clusterfuck.

"But..."

"Even if you were female, they wouldn't allow it."

"Because...punishment. Yeah, I really get it now," Stiles replied dejectedly.

Silence fell for a moment, then Peter rose to his feet. "Lydia and I need to get cleaned up and then go see her mother. Text me when the Pack returns and we will as well." Taking Lydia's mug, he headed for the kitchen, and Derek watched as Lydia's eyes trailed after him before turning to him.

"If I'm unable to have a child within the two years and they come for me, will you fight for me?"

"Yes. You're Pack. You're family, Lydia." He glanced at his uncle, saw approval and relief on his face, and watched him cross to his mate and wait for her to join him. Then he added, "But, you're stronger than they know, Lydia. If anyone can beat the odds they're playing, it's you."

"Damn straight," Stiles chimed in, a smile trembling on his face.

After Peter and Lydia left, Derek finished his coffee and set the mug on the end table, then waited. It wasn't a long wait.

"So, what else are they making us do? Or not letting us do?"

He could see Stiles' hands shaking a bit around his mug and he wasn't drinking, just holding onto it.

"None of us can leave Beacon County without permission which includes going away to college."

"And they won't give it."

"Unlikely."

Stiles made a sour face but gestured for him to continue. 

"We are allowed to do pretty much anything we want within our territorial limits. You all will go back to school next week."

"Yay."

He almost smiled at the sarcasm. Nothing kept his mate down for long. "You and the Betas can get jobs, they can mate, have cubs. There's nothing about Allison and Scott in the treaty. I'm going to try to find out where that leaves Scott, but not today. I'm not allowed to turn her or Chris which implies that they're not going to be killed. Also, I can't turn you, your father, Melissa or Deaton, and no one for five years and then only with permission."

"None of that's a surprise, really, outside of the Argents. Makes me worry what they have planned for the heads of the oldest hunter family in the U.S."

Nodding, Derek rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers under his chin as he tried to figure out how to tell Stiles the last two requirements. He knew he'd put it off too long when his mate set down his mug and huffed at him to get on with it.

"You have to live with me."

Stiles gaped at him. "Um...what?"

"Mates don't live apart. Not easily. It's why Scott moons so much over Allison and used to spend nights on her roof." He could see the wheels spinning in Stiles' mind, saw him glancing around the dimly lit, burnt out room and make a face.

"I'm not living here."

"I'm not up to arguing about this with you today. I'll get the heat and electricity fixed," Derek conceded.

"You know it's probably carcinogenic in here, right? I'm not dying of..." His voice choked off and his eyes fell and Derek remembered his mother had died of cancer, but didn't know what kind.

"Not today, Stiles." He was just too damn tired to fight about this now. "Do you want to hear the rest?" After giving him an angry, stubborn look, Stiles nodded, and Derek tried to gentle his voice but it probably came out too hard, too rushed. "You aren't allowed to have children either."

"...But, why?"

"There wasn't a reason given."

"I..." His face fell and he buried it in his hands for a long moment. "I always thought I'd make a good dad."

"My guess is they don't want you passing on your magic. Deaton's implied often enough that it had to be inherent in your mom for you to have it so strongly."

"Genetics, yeah. Welsh magic from her family." Rubbing his face, he looked up and Derek could see his eyes were reddened. "Fuck."

The treaty said nothing about adoption but Derek held his tongue. Not the right time.

"So...basically we get on with our lives?"

"Under their rule."

"I still don't get why they just didn't kill us all."

It was definitely something Derek had wondered as well.

"Probably gives them sick pleasure to see us beaten down, though," Stiles continued. "Death just ends everything. Bastards."

Derek snorted and Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

"So, are we going to talk about how you went all possessive out there?"

"No."

"You do know that I'm not a helpless maiden and I can take care of myself, right?"

Derek shot him an irritated look, then rose to his feet. "You should shower, go see your dad, get your things."

"Yeah, or we could both shower, both go see my dad and explain to him why his sixteen year old son is moving in with his werewolf boyfriend."

"Don't go call me that."

"Werewolf husband?"

"Not that either. Damn it, Stiles," he exploded and the boy jumped to his feet. "Take this seriously."

"I am! My dad didn't want to deal with the implications last night. I didn't want to deal with them either. But now we're stuck together and we have to live here and I'm fucking sixteen and still in high school, Derek."

"I know," he growled, his wolf beginning to rumble in irritation, wanting to run, wanting to...Fuck, he wanted to push Stiles to the floor and mount him. No, not in anger and frustration. Fisting his hands in his hair, he glared at his mate. "You're too damn young."

"Not so young you didn't fuck the shit out of me last night."

Derek felt himself pale. Had he been rough? He barely remembered the details, at the time too caught up in the guilt of what he was doing, at his hopeless inability to make either of them feel good. Had even tried to be careful? "Did I hurt you?"

"Huh? What? No...I mean, yeah, a bit, but it's not like I didn't know it was going to hurt." Stiles shot him a confused look and scratched the back of his neck, then winced. "Wow, kind of forgot that was there."

"I know it wasn't good," Derek stammered. And he wasn't going to repeat it any time soon to make it any better. "I..."

Stiles' face softened. "Derek, shut up. I came, remember? I enjoyed it, at least at the end. Did...did you?"

Derek thought about it for a minute, letting the vague memories wash over him. His wolf had been ecstatic, claiming his mate, the one he'd wanted for so long. His human side...Everything was dark and cold and bitter. "I...don't know."

"Oh, Jesus, Derek. You really are fucked up." Before he could stop him, Stiles had his arms around his waist, his face burrowed into his neck. "If I have to do it alone, I'll make this work for us." A sense of complete comfort hit him hard in the face. Something he hadn't felt since his family...

This was what a mate could do if he'd just let it happen.

Derek pulled back, carefully separating them, refusing to see the way Stiles' face fell. "Shower. I'll go with you to your dad's." He headed up the stairs two at a time before his mate could respond.

*****

Together but both lost in their own thoughts, they drove through the quiet town to the Stilinski House. 

"The werewolves are gone."

So, the Alphas were keeping their word on allowing the families freedom. He pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the engine. Stiles was out and up the walk before he could get out himself, but he followed him into the house to find the two Stilinskis embracing tightly.

Derek could still smell himself on his mate, smell the mating itself, but knew the human couldn't. He did notice the bite mark, though, and stiffened, his fingers brushing it carefully.

"It won't turn me, dad. He can't, actually."

John Stilinski released his son and turned to face Derek, his face unreadable through the bruises he bore. "I was about to make breakfast. Have the two of you eaten?"

"No. Let me. You talk to Derek."

Thanks, Stiles, Derek thought sourly.

"We'll all talk while you cook. The eggs are still fresh enough and there's enough bread for toast for three." Clapping his son on the back, John led the way into the kitchen. As Stiles bustled around, getting food out of the refrigerator and a skillet out of a cupboard, John poured a second cup of coffee and held it out to Derek. "How do you take it?"

"Black." He took the cup and set it down on the table as he and John sat.

His back to them, Stiles was cracking eggs into a bowl, but Derek knew he was listening intently. As he watched John sip his coffee, also black, Derek waited for the anger.

Instead, the former sheriff surprised him. "Thank you for keeping my son alive." They both ignored Stiles' squawk of protest that he could and did take care of himself. "I'm sure you can understand I'm not thrilled about how, but I've seen how you protect and care for your pack. He's part of that now."

"He always was."

John nodded in contemplation and Derek turned his eyes to the depths of his coffee cup, watching the steam curl. "So, it's done. You and him?" Derek nodded, still not looking up. "And, he's right, the bite you gave him won't turn him?"

"It won't. It's not deep enough and was...well, it doesn't happen that way. I'm not allowed to turn him. You either."

"Huh. There's a big announcement at noon in the town square. Mandatory attendance for all humans, at least. I guess we'll learn all the restrictions against us then. What are yours?"

Slowly Derek spelled it out as the aroma of cooking eggs and browning toast filled the kitchen. It was a good smell, but he felt colder and smaller the more he forced out the words. When he laid out their living arrangements, John interrupted for the first time.

"Son, he can't live in that ruin."

"I know," Derek gritted out.

"Oh, you'll accept that from my dad, but not me," Stiles muttered, slapping a plate down in front of Derek before placing one a bit more gently in front of his dad and then fetching his own to take a seat between the two older men.

"I'll figure something out. I can't think about that today. There's more..." John gestured with his fork for him to continue, and Derek stared at his plate, then spilled it all, that neither could have children. Across from him John stopped eating. Stiles shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

Derek lost his appetite but, knowing had to keep up his strength, forced down some toast.

"No grandkids," John said sadly.

That stopped Stiles' eating and he gave his dad a guilty look. "I'm sorry, dad."

"Son, not your fault. Neither of yours fault. They're doing this to punish you, right? End both our lines?"

"I have cousins."

"Our direct line," John amended. "Derek's too. The Hales have been here for over two hundred years."

"Peter and Lydia can carry on the bloodline, hopefully."

"Her mother called me last night--they turned back on the land lines--but all I could tell her was that Lydia was alive. I couldn't tell her..."

"She and Peter were headed there. Oh, before I forget." Stiles dug into his pocket and pulled out the Sheriff's iPhone, handing it to him. "They gave us back our cell phones."

"I guess life goes on, huh?"

Stiles shrugged and Derek saw him glance his way from beneath hooded eyes before turning back to his plate.

"What about someone to follow you as Alpha of your pack when you die?" John asked pointedly.

"Peter can produce a potential Alpha. It's not a guarantee by any means, but it's the only hope we have. If not...I'll break up the Pack before I die. I won't allow someone to take over who isn't a potential Alpha. Within a couple generations, the Pack would be half-feral and dangerous."

The thought turned his stomach, but, as Derek forced himself to eat, Stiles explained all the details about born versus bitten wolves and potential Alphas.

"You had the potential?" John asked Derek, who nodded and took a deep gulp of coffee. "Peter?"

"No. If he'd stayed Alpha...things would be very different. But, he can produce one. If Lydia..." With a grunt he shook his head and focused on the last scoop of scrambled eggs.

"So, do you go back to school? Get back as much of your normal life as you can?"

"Yeah. They're allowing all that. Just...I have to live with Derek. Thanks for not, y'know, citizen arresting him or anything," Stiles joked and both John and Derek shot him a sour look.

"A couple months ago if you'd come to me with a twenty three year old boyfriend, you'd both be in big trouble, but I'm not an asshole, you know. This isn't your fault. Either of you. But, you're so damn young, and that goes for both of you."

As Stiles ducked his eyes guiltily, Derek sighed softly. "The Alpha Pack has forced us to go against Hale tradition. Even though our wolves are mature at sixteen, we don't mate until eighteen at least. I am sorry, John. This shouldn't have happened. I would never have..."

John interrupted him. "I believe you. I've gotten to know you somewhat in the last few months, Derek, and you have an integrity that would hold up to my son's sixteen year old pushiness as long as possible."

"Hey!"

"You'd have pushed, Stiles. Christ, I remember sixteen and everything I wanted to do and did. You're stubborn and, my bet, Derek would have caved, and that wouldn't have been good for either of you."

"Would have been good for me," Stiles muttered under his breath.

"I'll chalk your selfishness up to you being sixteen, Stiles, but Derek had good reason to want to wait and you know it."

Feeling his own face heating up, Derek watched the color flare in Stiles' cheeks at his father's rebuke, as he dropped his eyes and nodded.

"But, unfortunately, that's neither here nor there. You're together now, too young emotionally, and you have to figure out how to make this work, both of you. Got it?" That was the sheriff voice and both young men nodded.

John relaxed a bit and picked up his mug. "Okay, here's what I want. A safe, warm and dry place for my son to live. Deal with that soon, Derek." He didn't wait for an acknowledgment. "Stiles goes to school, keeps his grades up, keeps up his magic training so he doesn't accidentally blow something up again. Police cars are expensive, you know."

"I apologized for that, profusely, and, wait, can I even keep using it?"

Derek nodded. "The treaty spoke of proscriptions on rebelling, planning insurrection, fighting any of the Alpha Pack or other supernatural creatures unless attacked first by the latter, but also mentioned you could use your magic for protection and anything that didn't go against their other rules."

"Huh." 

"They probably don't want any wild magic out of control. Like with my police car."

Stiles rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but grin a bit, until his father added, "And now I want to talk to Derek alone. Go pack some of your things."

After about three minutes of protesting, Stiles gave up, scowled at both of them, and stomped up the stairs. Derek listened to his door slam shut, then slowly turned to the Sheriff, ex-Sheriff...The man whose underage son he'd...

He didn't think John would try to hurt him, but he still felt the instinct to run well up in him.

"I'm not going to shoot you," John said with a snort before taking another sip of coffee and pushing his empty plate back. "And I don't want to know any details, god no. But..." He took another sip and frowned slightly. "He looks okay, seems okay. Is he?"

Was he? Derek was still not certain how he could be, but he nodded. "He's Stiles. Resilient. Stubborn." Falling silent, he stared at his fingers gripping his empty mug. They were just on the edge of turning to claws. 

"Stiles was afraid that you didn't want him." John looked like he'd rather swallow poison than continue, but he forced himself to. "I've known longer than Stiles that he's bisexual and for several months that he's attracted to you, but if you can't return that attraction, if you don't feel anything for men in general or him in particular, I'm asking you to tell him and let him down as easily as you can."

That was pretty much the last thing Derek had expected the sheriff to say. Of course he wanted Stiles. He wanted him too much. That was the problem. But... "There's been something there for a while," he finally admitted slowly, "But I've been fighting it."

"Because of his age?"

"Yes. That doesn't matter to my wolf, though. Sixteen is mature for us. But, I just...can't...He's too young." It wasn't the whole reason, but it played an important part. "It doesn't matter, John. We're mated. For me, it will last till one of us dies. There'll never be anyone else."

"Would you want there to be?"

"Only...only...That doesn't matter either. The Alpha Pack won't let me sire a cub."

There was a reason John had been elected Sheriff three terms in a row and the youngest ever in Beacon County. Knowledge shown on his face and he nodded in understanding. "You wanted to push Stiles away and find a woman."

"It's a biological drive."

"Could you have done it?"

"...I don't know. Probably not," he finally admitted to himself and his wolf huffed in pleasure, which made no sense to Derek because that side of him should have been the part wanting a female wolf to bear his cubs.

John smiled softly. "You care about my kid."

Derek flushed and nodded before ducking his head in confusion. No wonder criminals so readily admitted their crimes when being interrogated by this man.

"I'm glad, Derek. Of course I want him to be happy, and he wants to be with you."

"A couple months ago he still wanted to be with Lydia," Derek replied sourly because he'd always seen her as competition. As humans, they weren't bound by the mating instinct to be faithful.

"You think he'll stop caring about you, that he's fickle?"

"I think he's sixteen years old and hasn't had a chance to do anything, be with anyone, and that's the biggest reason I...I didn't want to take those choices from him and the Alpha Pack, they just destroyed his future."

There was silence for a minute. "I think these are things that you need to work out with Stiles. I think he'll surprise you." 

A light touch on his arm brought Derek's head back up and he gave John an uncertain look. "I'm fucked up."

John smiled and patted him. "Yeah, but my kid has a way of fixing the fucked up."

A clattering accompanied by a rhythmic thumping on the stairs alerted them to Stiles' descent and John rose to clear the table. Stiles dragged a suitcase behind him and had his book bag and laptop case over his shoulders. Rising, Derek relieved him of the suitcase.

"Did you fill this with rocks?"

"Ha ha. No, it's all my magic stuff. Which, okay, does include some rocks, and vials of herbs and books and my athame and cauldron and..."

"Are there clothes in here?"

Stiles shrugged and shifted his laptop as it started to slide down his arm. "Some. I still have more than your three pairs of dark jeans and two black shirts and two gray shirts."

"I have socks."

Yeah, I know, they're gray."

At the sink, John was biting back a laugh, and Derek felt like joining him but forced it down to glower at his grinning mate.

"Come on, sourwolf. The Pack will be coming home soon and we've got a lot to figure out and talk about."

"I don't do talking."

"Okay, I'll talk. That way I get to make all the decisions," he added as he spun around and headed for the front door with a 'bye dad, call you later' flung over his shoulder.

"You should see your face, Derek. You're screwed, you know."

Barely restraining a growl, Derek silently stomped after Stiles. He had no clue what the fuck he was going to do with the kid, but he was definitely going to ignore the images his wolf was throwing into his head.

He wasn't touching Stiles again, not anytime soon. He just...couldn't. It was bad enough that the Sheriff could read his emotions like a book and get him to admit to caring. Caring...caring led to bad things.

He wouldn't survive this time.

End Chapter 6


End file.
